Feral
by FidgetGlitterBlossom
Summary: While restocking herbs, the Royal Sorcerer of Enchancia finds an injured feral child in the woods and decides to take her in, housing her temporarily at his parents' cottage until he can solve the mystery of who the girl is and where she came from. Fluffy. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Cedric the Great - though nobody but himself called him by that title - was the royal sorcerer of Enchancia, answering directly to King Roland II. The title meant almost nothing inside the castle, granting him little more than room and board. In the village, his standing was treated more reverently, leaving him to live his life in an awkward limbo, stuck in a grey area between royal and peasant. This obvious truth was one of many things that caused him to be a very lonely man. He told himself that he didn't mind, having never truly gotten along with anyone besides his mother, anyway. But in quiet moments, like the ones spent in the woods outside of Dunwiddie, replenishing the magical ingredients that grew too common to the region to be worth selling at the charmacy, it became painfully obvious that he wouldn't mind some company now and then.

His thoughts were elsewhere, today.

Not on his near solitary existence, but on his magical failings, a subject that left him feeling utterly loath to return to the palace at all. Today was Queen Sara's birthday, and from his unique position in the woods, he could hear strains of both the raucous music of the village bash and the more refined tones of the celebration being held at the castle. While planning the festivities, King Roland had requested a simple firework spell, one Cedric practised secretly for weeks, taking great care to perfect it before the day arrived. And yet, with all royal eyes on him as he stood alone on the stage, he had stuttered his way through the spell, the way he all too often tended to when performing under pressure.

Instead of fireworks, he conjured up a great thunderstorm that nearly destroyed the Queen's ball. Certain that he could get it right this time, he urged the King to allow him another try but he was quickly dismissed, as usual. His head hung in shame, he exited the festivities and made his way here. Alone among the trees and flowers, he allowed himself to block out the competing tunes and sulk over his latest failure properly.

The sorcerer was so lost in his thoughts that he almost didn't hear the crash several metres away from him. Almost.

At first he assumed it to be some animals, until he drew closer and heard the unmistakable sound of human cries. Approaching cautiously, he began to recognise the form of a small child, no more that four, maybe five years old. She was laying on the ground in a heap, the bristles and handle of a broomstick visible underneath her. Looking around the child, he saw its pointed hat not far from where it landed.

A witchling, he realised.

Quietly, he picked up the small hat and slowly walked toward the motionless, whimpering child. A branch snapped beneath his feet, and the pitiful little thing jumped to attention, scrambling to its feet and running off further into the woods, clearly favouring its left leg.

Cedric picked up the broomstick, tucked the hat under his arm, and pursued, though he wasn't quite sure why. "Wait", he called, his long, slender limbs easily outpacing the witchling. It hesitated, but made no attempt to face him.

Cedric supposed that it was a girl, judging from its long, dirty hair - caked so heavily in mud that the colour was indistinguishable in the dying rays of sunlight streaming through the trees. He reached a hand out to touch her shoulder, but she was off again. Following closely behind, he pursued her for what must have been over half an hour, until she came to a ramshackle cottage, so old and uncared for that the east wall was completely caved in, the roof not far behind it.

The tiny girl disappeared inside, and Cedric stood for a moment, deciding if he should follow or merely leave her things at the door for her to find later. The building didn't look safe, at any rate, so he steeled himself and walked the path to the door.

Entering the home, he found it to be empty. He made his way to the broken wall - no easy task as debris and assorted objects cluttered most of the floor- and hazarded a peek out, thinking she'd evaded him by going back outside.

A sound behind him caught his attention, and he spun around just in time to catch the girl trying to scoot from her hiding spot under the table to make a break for the door. Stumbling only a little, he soon found himself blocking her escape. He crouched down to speak at her level, and to get a better look at the girl. She let out a low growl, but made no attempt to bypass him.

"I'm not going to hurt you", he did his best to reassure her.

Her gaze snapped to his face, and for the first time he saw the brilliant sapphire jewels that were her large eyes, their beauty almost jarring in contrast to her filthy face and hair. She wore a dress much too small for even her tiny frame, long sleeves ending midway between her elbows and wrists, instead of near her hands. He surmised that it must have been blue at one point, though he couldn't be certain. A chain around her neck disappeared down into the bodice, hiding well whatever it was that hung at the end of it.

"I-I brought your things", he explained, holding the broom and hat out to the child.

She made no attempt to take them. Nor did she speak to Cedric, her silence unsettling the sorcerer, though he tried to write it off as shyness. Or maybe she's been told not to talk to strangers, he reminded himself of the possibility.

"Where are your parents?"

She continued to remain motionless, those incredible eyes staring at him as if she were examining his very soul.

He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and tried again. "Do you live here?" He was about to give up, but those hypnotising eyes kept him fixed in position, determined to find out something about this strange child.

She kept perfectly still, and no reply came.

"I can fix your leg", he stated.

Nothing.

It finally occurred to him that she may not speak English, so he tried the only other language that he knew, though he didn't speak it as well as his occupation should have called for. "Figere pedem tuum (Fix your foot)", he repeated, pointing down at her left leg.

Her eyes narrowed at him before she shifted to bring her injured appendage to the front of her.

Well, this was progress, at least.

He inched closer, noticing that she was without shoes, and her bare feet were nearly black with dirt. He retrieved his wand, and circled it anticlockwise before touching it to the girl.

She jerked back from the contact, but when the motion didn't cause pain, she looked down at her leg in surprise.

"See, all better", he offered, pausing to let her process the information. Her eyes were back on him, now.

"Mihi… (My...)" He faltered, trying to think of the rest of the sentence. "Mihi nomen Cedric (My name is Cedric)", he introduced himself, only half expecting her to give her name in return. With no idea what else to do, he rubbed his forehead in frustration before struggling to his feet. "Right, well, you're all better, and you have your hat and broom..." he stated, preparing to leave the cottage.

His eyes studied the bleak, crumbling structure, and his thoughts turned to the prince and princess at home, dressed in their finery, with food in their bellies and protection from the elements.

He stalled, giving a sigh and turning to study the small child again.

"Mater? (Mother?)"

He could almost swear she moved her head to the side slightly, as if to shake it, but it was growing dim quickly and he didn't know if he should trust his eyes.

"Pater? (Father?)"

There it was again. He struggled to remember his education. The words were in him somewhere, he just had to find them.

"Veni... mecum? (Come with me?)"

His face fell as once again she didn't react to him in the slightest.

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving", he conceded, spinning around and walking to the door.

Just as his hand made contact, small, bare feet thudded across the floor behind him, closing the distance. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and he turned the knob, walking outside only to be followed by the strange girl.

"No- nolite timere (Don't be afraid)", he said, though he was pretty sure she wasn't going to appreciate his next action.

He slowly turned towards her, drawing his wand again and pointing it before she had another chance to take off into the woods. She disappeared into a puff of smoke, and he quickly turned the wand on himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Moments later, Cedric found himself in front of a very different cottage. The girl, having arrived just before him, was doubled over, white knuckles gripping the handle of her broom tightly, gagging sounds escaping her. He felt guilty for transporting such a young child, but it was the only way he could think of to bring her here. He offered her his hand, intending to help her up, but instead she lunged forward and bit him, making him infinitely thankful for the black gloves he always wore.

"Nolo." He told her sternly, gripping her arm and pulling her to her feet. He supposed her reaction was somewhat warranted, so he didn't press the issue further. She tried futility to pry herself free, but he didn't like the idea of her disappearing into the unfamiliar village. He reached to knock on the door, and was relieved to see it was his mother who answered. He hadn't stopped to consider how his father would react to this strange guest until the door began to open, but he imagined the elder sorcerer wouldn't be amused.

"Ceddykins!" His mother exclaimed, throwing the door open wide and rushing to hug her son. She stopped short of him, her attention turning to the small figure at his side.

"And who might this be?" She asked, studying the child with surprise.

"I have no idea. I found her in the woods." He answered. When his mother saw the girl's broom, her eyes grew wide, and she quickly ushered them in, though the child attempted to resist as Cedric led her through the entryway. His mother peeked her head back outside, glancing around to make sure the pair hadn't been spotted before closing the door behind them.

"You brought a witchling to Mystic Meadows?" The older woman demanded of her son, tone harsher than she probably meant it to be.

"She was holed up in a structure that was about to collapse. She doesn't seem to have any parents." He offered his explanation weakly, hoping she might come around to the idea if she knew the circumstances. He knew his mother had a weakness for children, after all. As he expected, her face softened.

"What's your name, dear?" She asked the witchling. Cedric frowned and shook his head.

"Don't bother, she won't answer you. She does seem to understand Latin, though." He caught her up on the events that lead them here. The girl made another heaving sound, her legs wobbling a bit beneath her.

"Something to settle her, please? We transported here." He insisted, knowing food would help with the child's nausea. His mother shook her head at him, clearly wanting to lecture him, but she hurried off to the kitchen instead. Cedric removed his robe and draped it across the sofa so the filthy girl could sit without irking his mother. Soon, she returned from the kitchen with a cup of tea and some fresh berries, placing them on the coffee table. Instead of sitting on his robe, the witchling crouched on the wooden floor and wasted no time in shovelling the food into her mouth as quickly as she could.

"Modero." Cedric warned, not wanting to see her make herself sick. She glared at him, and returned to what she was doing, making no attempt to slow down as he instructed. He frowned, then turned to shrug at his mother.

"She needs a bath, Ceddy." Winifred said, cringing as she watched the girl lick berry juice off of her dirty fingers.

"I hadn't noticed." He drawled sarcastically. His mother shook her head at him, muttering something he couldn't quite make out as she headed towards the wash room to fill the tub. Cedric watched as the last berries disappeared, sure that the girl was going to throw up shortly. Nothing to be done about it now. He told himself. She looked to him, he assumed for more food.

"Later." He stated, his mother returning and attempting to take the child so she could wash her. She turned her frightened gaze to Cedric, and he nodded at her that it was okay to go.

Still she fought, possessing surprising strength for someone her size, doing everything she could to make her way back to Cedric. To placate her, he followed along until they reached the door, then shut it behind them as his mother and the girl went inside. He could hear the sounds of a struggle inside, and then his mother let out a sound that was either surprise or pain, but he couldn't tell which. Opening the door again, he peeked his head in to see the child, one bony arm out of her dress, deposited on the floor, and his mother shaking her hand in the air.

"She bit me!" Winfred exclaimed, blowing on her injury to ease the pain.

"Right. Forgot to warn you about that." Cedric replied. Impressed with how spirited the girl was, he had to fight to suppress a chuckle at the sight in front of him. She tried to make a break for the door, but he stretched his arm out and caught her easily.

"She's all yours!" His mother fumed, marching past them and back into the main area of the cottage.

"I can't wash her. She's a girl." He protested. No answer came, so he eyed the child warily. Coming all the way into the wash room, Cedric closed the door behind them so she couldn't try to leave again. Not sure what else to do, he grabbed her, lifting her up and depositing her small frame into the tub, dress and all. She fought hard, clearly terrified of the water, but he was too strong for her. He let out gentle shushing sounds as he did his best to ease her in, mimicking the way he'd seen his mother and sister calm his young niece. Using one hand to hold her still, he took the soap in his free hand and wet it in the tub before rubbing it gently against her arm, hoping she would get the idea.

A valiant effort to escape splashed water all over him, and he groaned, doing his best to be patient with the scared little girl.

"Calm down. It's only soap." He didn't know why he kept talking to her when she obviously wasn't going to respond, but he supposed it was better than nothing. Setting aside the soap and scooping water out of the tub, he rinsed her off, layers of muck giving way to tanned skin, no doubt from spending much of her time outside in the woods. She relaxed her body a bit, and he hoped she was getting the message.

"I'm going to let go." Cedric informed her quietly. He released her arm but stayed alert, ready to grab her again if need be. He found the washcloth his mother readied and lathered it, using it to clean the rest of her arm. When a soap bubble escaped, she laughed. The sound was throaty, her voice clearly unused for some time, but it possessed a musical quality that made Cedric smile.

"Liked that?" He asked, rinsing her off again before lifting her other arm out of the water to wash it wherever her sleeve didn't cover.

"Mummy!" He called. Soon, Winifred cracked the door open, and was peering at him through the gap, clearly avoiding coming back in if she could help it.

"What do you need, Ceddy?" She asked him suspiciously. He rolled his eyes at her tone before answering.

"Could you conjure some bubbles? She seems to enjoy them." He requested, having to scrub harder than he liked at the patch of skin he was currently trying to clean. When the girl grunted and tried to pull her arm away, he shot her an apologetic smile, but maintained his grasp. Winifred stuck her wand through the opening, and soon the tub was full of bubbles, with some floating through the air around it.

At the sight of them floating about, her laughter filled the room, and Cedric soon found it contagious. He demonstrated how to pop the bubbles with his finger tip. The first time he did it, she frowned at him for ruining a bubble, but she soon grasped that it was a fun game. In almost no time, she was completely distracted with them, allowing him to wash her shoulders. When he tried to scrub her neck, he was amused to find that she was ticklish

The sounds of delight peaked his mother's curiosity as well, and he was surprised to glance over to find her standing in the now open doorway, a gentle smile on her face as she watched the scene unfolding before her.

He managed to wash the girl's face without too much fuss, though she clearly wasn't very keen on it. He stopped to look her over, astonished to find that she was a lovely little girl once the layers of dirt were removed. When he tried to move behind her to wash her hair, she spun in the tub, unwilling to let him out of her sight.

"Manere." He told her in a firm voice, pleased to find that this time she kept still as he moved around her. He washed the ends of her hair without much incident, though it took a while to really get it clean. The top of her head provided a challenge, though, as she refused to lean back in the tub so that he could rinse it. He finally convinced her to look up by getting his mother to conjure more bubbles above them, near the ceiling.

"I wish you'd tell us your name, witchling." Cedric mused absently as he massaged his soapy fingers through her scalp, trying to dislodge as much filth as he could before rinsing the suds out of her dark hair.

"I suppose you could call her whatever you like." His mother volunteered. Cedric scowled at the idea of assigning her a new name like she was some sort of pet.

"No. She already has a name, we simply need to find out what it is. Besides, she likely wouldn't answer to any name I give her." He made his way back to the other end of the tub and patted the rim.

"Pes." He instructed, and her feet slowly emerged from the water, coming to a rest on the edge of the tub. Soaking in the tub removed some of the mess, but not nearly enough. She squealed as he cleaned the bottoms, kicking and thrashing as the room again filled with her giggles. When Cedric was once more doused with water, he leaned forward over the tub, a serious look plastered on his features. The girl scooted away until her back bumped against the porcelain. Cedric's mouth turned up into a smile as he dipped his hand into the tub and splashed her, eliciting a new round of laughter. She copied the motion, and soon they were in the midst of a full on water fight.

"Okay, I really need to finish your feet now." He stated, patting the tub again. After removing most of the dirt, it became apparent that her feet were covered in scrapes and scratches from running barefoot in the woods. He noted nearly healed wounds wrapping around her right ankle. Most likely she'd caught her foot in a thorny vine recently, he deduced.

"How long have you been alone?" He mused sympathetically. He caught those incredible eyes on him again, and wondered if anything he said was getting through to the child.

"Mummy, you'll have to take over from here." He stated, standing to take his leave so his mother could clean the more intimate areas. As Winifred approached, the girl let out a guttural, animalistic growl, clearly unwilling to let her come anywhere close.

"I don't think she likes that idea." His mother told him, as though she were translating.

He returned to the tub, facing the girl and holding her shoulders so his mother could come near. Making shushing noises again, he focused his eyes on the child's face. She let out another growl as Winifred used her wand to remove the wet clothing and began to clean the areas Cedric couldn't, but it was quieter this time. Finally, she was all cleaned up. Winifred drained the tub and managed, albeit with some difficulty, to get a towel around the girl, and Cedric helped her out of the tub, which she resisted almost as much as she initially fought getting in.


	3. Chapter 3

"You like baths now, don't you?" Cedric asked, using another of his mother's towels to dry her long hair.

"She'll need something to wear, Ceddy. Her dress is much too small, and she can't just run around like that." Winifred pointed out, grimacing as she surveyed her wash room, now a wet, muddy disaster. Cedric frowned down at the girl in front of him. There was nowhere to purchase children's clothing in the retirement community of Mystic Meadows, as it wasn't exactly a needed trade here. He eyed the towel that surrounded her torso.

"Can you make this into some bedclothes?" He asked his mother, having left his wand in the pocket of his robe, which was still on the sofa.

"I suppose, so long as it's just for tonight. I do like these towels." She told him, waving her wand to turn the cotton rectangle into a white nightgown. Cedric watched the witchling look herself over. She seemed happy enough with the arrangement, so he considered it successful.

"What are you going to do with her, now?" Winifred enquired as they walked back to the living room, the child shadowing Cedric closely.

"You have a guest room." He pointed out, already headed in that direction.

"She can't stay here. What would your father say? And how am I supposed to take care of her if she refuses to be in the same room as me?" His mother rejected the idea incredulously.

"I can't very well bring her back to the palace with me, and I'm not about to send her out alone again." He reasoned. His parent's cottage was the best place for her to stay until he got to the bottom of things. Winifred studied her son critically.

"I'll be back first thing in the morning. It's only until I can find her family, Mummy." He answered, entering the room and gently guiding the girl to the small guest bed. She climbed in eagerly, so he readied himself to leave. As he was about to exit, the witchling climbed out to follow after him, and Cedric realised it was going to take more effort than he thought to put the child down for the night. With a sigh, he returned her to bed, pulling the covers up to her shoulders. He sat on the mattress next to her and began to sing the only song that came to his mind.

 _Fare thee well my own true love_

 _And farewell for a while._

 _I'm going away, but I'll come again_

 _If I go ten thousand miles._

During the second verse, the witchling's eyes began to flutter, and Cedric lowered his voice, hoping she'd fall asleep soon. After a few more lines, the door opened quietly behind him, and his mother entered the room, joining in the song she had sung for her son so often when he was little.

 _Oh come back my own true love_

 _And stay a while with me_

 _For if I had a friend all on this earth,_

 _You've been a friend to me._

This time when the child's eyes dipped shut, they didn't open again. He stood and looked the small girl over, adjusting her blanket one more time as his mother finished the song. Turning to leave, he gave Winifred a quick kiss on the cheek.

"First thing in the morning." She whispered the reminder, and he promised that he would be back on time. He returned to the living room and gathered his robe, shrugging it on before transporting back to his tower.

He was relieved to hear hints of music still wafting through his windows from below. Quickly, he made his way outside to seek an audience with the King.

"A word, your majesty?" He asked after locating his employer.

"Yes, Cedric, what is it?" Came Roland's reply.

"Could you spare an officer for a while. There's something I need to have investigated." He managed, though his heart was pounding from the act of asking favours from the King. Roland eyed Cedric in surprise.

"What sort of issue are you having?" He prodded, grabbing a drink from the tray that a passing servant stopped to offer him. Cedric put his hand up to signal that he didn't want anything, not interested in partaking in the festivities at the moment.

"It's of a... somewhat personal matter. I expect it might take a while to resolve." He explained as much as he was willing, hoping King Roland would oblige him without further enquiry. It must have been his lucky night, because Roland waved Baileywick over to make the arrangements.

"Right this way, Cedric." The steward drawled, leading him to the guard house. Once inside, Cedric pointedly waited for Baileywick to leave before explaining what he would need.

"So... You want me to locate the girl's mother, then?" The unfamiliar man asked him after he summarised his predicament. Cedric thought it over for a minute, just now stopping to consider exactly what he expected to come from such research.

"I suspect her mother may be gone. I wish to know who she is, how long she's been on her own in the woods, and if you should discover that she has any remaining family, I'd like to reunite her with them. Quickly as possible, as I'm currently watching her myself." He rattled off the things he expected from the officer, reminding him again that King Roland himself gave him permission to pursue the matter.

The officer accepted the job, promising Cedric that he would do his best to learn the origins of the child and see her returned. Content with the arrangement, the sorcerer excused himself and returned to his quarters, happy to see his bed after the long day that he'd just been through. The last coherent thought that went through his mind was of the magical ingredients he discarded earlier in the woods in order to chase after the wild witchling, but he was strangely unbothered by the loss of an entire afternoon's worth of work. The tune he sang to lull the girl ran through his head, putting him to sleep around the end of the second verse.

 _Ten thousand miles, my own true love,_

 _Ten thousand miles or more,_

 _And the rocks may melt and the seas may burn,_

 _If I should not return._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** My update schedule has changed and is in my profile. I personally really like this chapter, and hope you lovely readers do, too.

So I had to laugh at the review left on last chapter about Winifred's morning, because I was work way ahead of updates, and this had been written for quite a while, and they just totally nailed it.

* * *

True to his word, Cedric rose much earlier than was natural for him and transported directly to his parents' home. He expected to get there before Winifred's house guest woke, but the sight of his frazzled mother as she greeted him at the door clued him in that the girl was already stirring up trouble. Pushing past her through the entryway, he was shocked to see the state of disarray that the normally tidy house was currently in. Chairs were upturned, various items scattered, and an oil lamp lay broken on the floor near the sofa.

"That child has been destroying my home all morning, Ceddy. She doesn't listen to a thing I say, Latin or otherwise." His mother explained, clearly on the verge of considering this a failed experiment.

"Where is she?" He asked, searching through the chaos for a glimpse of the girl. His mother pointed under the dining room table, and sure enough, he found her hiding beneath it, chairs pulled in close around her like a cave. She was clutching something tightly against her body.

"Hello, there. May I see that?" He asked her quietly, reaching his hand out to collect the item. She didn't hand it over, but she made no move to stop him, either. Wrapping his fingers around it, he pulled gently, and she released her grasp. After seeing what it was, he looked to his mother for an explanation.

"She's been holding that painting all morning. She refused to be separated from it. Keeps showing it to me over and over again. From a distance, of course." Winifred explained, shrugging at her son. He glanced back and forth between the wild girl and the painting, a portrait of him that his mother painted nearly a year ago.

"Seems to be a big fan of yours. I'm pretty sure it was her way of asking for you." Winifred chuckled as she explained her theory, glad that Cedric was here to deal with the child, now.

"Has she eaten?" He asked, allowing the girl to reclaim the portrait when she reached for it. His mother pointed to the upside down bowl of porridge on the floor behind the table, and Cedric shook his head.

"Come on out from there." He prodded, gripping the girl's arm to pull her forward. She didn't seem as interested in fighting him today, and soon she was standing in front of the table, giving Cedric a chance to look her over properly. Her long auburn hair fell into twisted locks that hung wild about her face, and her intense, jewelled eyes remained fixed suspiciously on his mother, following the woman as she moved to reclaim order in her house. Her conjured nightgown had nearly as much porridge spilt on it as the floor did, but her face was still clean, with no signs that any food had actually made it into the child.

"Come on, witchling. Let's get you fixed up." He instructed, leading the girl back to the guest room and fishing a hair brush out of the vanity table. He guided her into the chair and began to drag the brush through her tangled hair, doing the best he could to ignore her thrashing and loud noises of discontent. Eventually, she stilled, letting him work in peace. Brushing a young girl's hair wasn't exactly within his skill set, but he managed all right. His mother knocked on the door, and the child took the opportunity to race off, hiding behind a bookshelf.

"Yes, Mummy?" He asked, keeping an eye on his temporary charge.

"I dug out some old dresses of Cordelia's before I went to bed last night. Not quite the latest fashion, but they should do." She explained, holding a stack of clothes out to her son. He studied his mother in confusion.

"Shouldn't you be the one to dress her?" He asked, causing Winifred to snort.

"You think I didn't already try?" She retorted, eyes rolling at her son's foolish question. Plunking the garments unceremoniously into his arms, she quickly took her leave, Cedric staring after her, mouth agape. Without looking back at the child, he laid the dresses out on the bed, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he heard bare feet slapping against the wood floor as her curiosity got the better of her. He stepped back to let her examine her options.

"They're yours now, I suppose. Go on, which one do you like?" Placing a hand to her back, he nudged her forward ever so slightly, hoping she'd catch on that she should pick one. Setting the painting down on the bed next to the dresses, she reached out and ran her fingertips across the third dress, a light purple peasant gown with a white flower pattern on it.

"Good choice." He stated, lifting the dress up to appraise it. She looked up at him, her expression almost a smile. He pulled the new dress over her head, leaving her arms out of the sleeves.

Taking his wand out of his robe pocket, he pointed it at the strip of white nightgown peeking out beneath the bottom of the dress, turning it back into a towel, which dropped to the ground. _That wasn't so difficult._ He thought to himself proudly, helping her into the sleeves of the dress before circling around behind her to fumble with the laces that criss-crossed up the back of the bodice. It certainly wasn't a job well done, but it was tied, and he figured that was good enough for a first try.

"Aren't you a vision?" He asked, his voice barely suppressing his surprise at how nicely she cleaned up. He paced around her in a circle, examining the little girl, finding it hard to believe that he had scarcely been able to discern her gender the day before.

Opening the door and making his way back to the main section of the house, he was amused to hear that she was still following close behind him. Winifred looked up from where she sat on the floor, collecting large pieces of glass.

"Would you look at that?" She spoke, her voice full of astonishment. Cedric couldn't help but smile.

Cedric had hoped his mother would have a pair of his sister's old shoes to give the witchling, too, but he wasn't that lucky. She did have a pair of her own shoes that she didn't mind him magically shrinking down for a day, so that's what they did.

"I was planning to take her to some of the witch villages and see if anyone recognises her. If I'm searching at the same time as the royal officer, maybe we can find a relative sooner." He explained to his mother as he put the little girl's borrowed shoes on. It was no easy task, as she wasn't accustomed to having things on her feet, and was clearly not amused by the idea. Every time he successfully put one on her and moved to the other foot, she would remove the first shoe, starting the process all over again, and Cedric's patience was beginning to wear thin.

"Is that a good idea? She's not exactly social, Ceddy." His mother pointed out, finally scrapping the last of the dried porridge off of the dining room floor, her house now back to normal.

"Do you enjoy having your feet all cut up, child?" He hissed, holding her right shoe in place as he struggled to get its mate on with only one free hand. She kicked her foot free again and he threw his hands up and groaned in frustration. Seizing the opportunity, the girl jumped to her feet and ran off, Cedric following closely at her heels. Glancing over her shoulder to see him giving chase, she veered right, leading him directly into the wash room and stopping in front of the claw foot tub.

When he caught up, she poked her fingers around in the air, as though she were popping bubbles again. All of the sorcerer's ire dissipated as he carefully watched her attempts to communicate with him.

"Aren't you clever?" He spoke gently, patting the girl on the head. She dodged a second touch and did her best to throw a leg over the side of the large bathtub.

"Later, witchling. First, we must try to find someone who knows you." He explained, though he knew perfectly well his words were meaningless to the girl. Lifting her up to carry her back to the living room, he had to fight to keep his balance as her flailing threatened to topple them both. He deposited her on the couch and waved his wand in the air, conjuring more bubbles. With the girl distracted, it was easier to get both of her shoes on, and Cedric wondered why he didn't think of that in the first place. It meant letting her dawdle a short while after her shoes were on, giving the girl a chance to finish playing, but it was worth it. Finally, they were ready to leave.

"Goodbye, Mummy. We should be back in time for dinner." He said, waving goodbye. He grabbed the witchling's broom and hat, and reached to open the door. His mother was about to return the sentiment, but instead she stalled and frowned at him.

"You can't just waltz into a witch village dressed like that, Ceddy." She pointed out. Cedric looked down at his robe, realisation dawning on his face. Of course he couldn't show up in a sorcerer's robe. No one would possibly tell him anything if he did.

With a sigh, he removed his robe and draped it over his mother's coat rack, feeling quite exposed without it. He tucked his wand into the pocket of his trousers, and he and the girl left the cottage.


	5. Chapter 5

They reached the first village in fairly decent time, as it wasn't all that far from Mystic Meadows. He made his way to the village square, the witchling following close behind.

"Excuse me." He tried, gesturing to a young woman in an effort to grab her attention. She hurried by him and into a nearby store, the door closing loudly behind her. He made several more attempts, but all were met with similar results. With a huff, he turned to face his young companion, noticing for the first time since arriving how frightened she looked.

"They're very rude." He complained, offering the girl his hand to try and make her feel better. For a few awkward seconds, she simply stared at his gloved palm. Cedric cleared his throat.

"Yes, well..." Reading the signs to get his bearings, he walked until he found the town charmacy, being careful to move slowly enough that the witchling's shorter legs could match his pace.

When they entered, Cedric couldn't resist the urge to look about, never having been in a witch's charmacy before. It wasn't entirely unlike the ones sorcerers used, but everything was much more earthy. Absent were the vials and beakers, and in their place were carved figures, animal skins, candles, and broomsticks. The store held the strong smell of plants and recently burned incense. Cedric found himself quite enchanted with the rather foreign atmosphere.

The little girl found her way to a display of cloth dolls, and Cedric tagged along behind her. Scooping one up, he read the tag that was affixed to its neck. It was a list of herbs that were apparently sewn into the doll and their uses - bluebell for friendship, lotus for serenity and speech, cedar for courage, and geranium for joy. The speech jumped out at him, though he supposed all of those things would be helpful for the child. Small hands gripped the doll, attempting to pull her away from Cedric. He let go and watched as inquisitive sapphire eyes met embroidered inky blue ones, the child's face lighting up as she studied the stuffed toy.

He left her to her own devices, making his way to the square partition in the middle of the room, where a middle aged witch with long blonde hair was seated, pretending to be too busy filling a cloth bag with fragrant dryed plants to notice them, though he'd felt her eyes on them more than once since they'd come inside.

"Pardon me, I'm looking for some information." He began, hoping she would be more helpful than the last several witches he had tried to engage.

"This is a store, not a tavern. Buy something or take a hike." Her silky voice chastised him, not even bothering to look up from her work to address him properly. Cedric returned to the witchling, retrieving the doll. She squeaked in protest and made several attempts to grab it back as he hurried across the room and set it down on the counter. In truth, he had already debated on purchasing it for the child, he simply didn't like being beholden to do so in exchange for whatever help he may or may not be able to elicit from the witch. Coins exchanged hands, and she asked him if he needed a bag to carry it. Removing it from the counter, he knelt down to address the girl.

"She belongs to you." He explained patiently, pressing it into her outstretched palms. It had been for her benefit, not the shopkeeper's, but the display softened the woman to Cedric.

"What do you need to know?" She asked him, standing to get a better look at the cute little girl who was now clutching the doll she had sewn.

"I'm trying to find this child's mother. Or any family, really. My only clues are her broom and hat, so I'm hoping someone here may recognize her." He explained. The woman shook her head.

"She's definitely not from this village. Have you tried any others?" She inquired, seeming sure that she'd never seen the child before today. Cedric shook his head.

"These places are remarkably hard to find." He pointed out. This was the only one he knew about, and until they arrived he was half convinced that its location was just a rumor. The blonde smiled at him.

"Now that I can help you with!" She answered, bending down to dig through some drawers beneath the counter. After a few seconds, she gave a triumphant cry and resurfaced, handing him a piece of aged parchment. His eyes went wide as he drank in the information he'd been presented. It seemed to be a map showing a multitude of witch communities.

"May I keep this?" He asked her, his voice quivering with excitement. With this, there was no way they could fail.

"On your word that you won't show it to anyone else? Sure, I have other copies." She waved her hand dismissively, and Cedric promised to keep her secrets, thanking the woman and hurrying the witchling out the door.

 **...**

"You'll have to think of something to call her." Cedric informed the witchling, watching her dance the new doll around the clearing. Her motions were unskilled, but from the heart, nothing like the over rehearsed waltzes of the little princes and princesses he often saw swaying around the ballroom of the palace.

They'd been to three villages so far this morning, and he knew nothing more now than he had when they left the first. He picked a leaf off of the picnic blanket he'd conjured so they could sit and have lunch, eyeing the little girl's untouched plate anxiously. His mind traveled back to her upended porridge at his mother's house. He was fairly certain the only thing she'd eaten since he met her were the berries from last night.

"You need to eat, witchling." He insisted. She continued twirling around with her toy, completely ignoring his words.

"Pappo!" He tried, not meaning the word to sound as harsh as it had. At this she glanced quickly at her lunch, but went back to playing immediately. Cedric pushed his white bangs back in frustration, not sure what else he was supposed to do. _How long can a child go without food?_ He wondered, hoping it was longer than he thought it was. When he lifted his chin back up, his field of vision was filled with the doll's friendly smile. He moved his eyes higher to see his child companion staring intently at him.

"You want me to play, too?" He asked her, accepting the doll slowly, so as not to scare her off. He frowned down at the soft toy, not entirely sure how one played with a child. Getting what he hoped was a good idea, he layed the doll down on the blanket and drew his wand, ignoring the way the girl pouted at him when she thought he wasn't going to join in. First, he enchanted the toy, then he moved his wand as if he were a conductor, the doll dancing on the ground between them.

The witchling eyed it cautiously, but ultimately sat down to watch the show. Cedric hummed the lullabye he had sung to her as he twirled the doll this way and that, and soon peals of laughter were coming from the wild girl seated in front of him.

With a flick of his wrist, the doll leaped high in the air, coming down to rest on the blanket again, only to bend low and bow before he allowed the spell to break, letting the silence settle back on the clearing as he pondered how much more fulfilling it was to do magic for this child than for the royal children at home.

He watched as her small hands pushed her plate aside, clearing space on the blanket to play. She held the toy by the arms, moving it around in a crude imitation of his spell. Hoping he could capitalize on her new affinity for copying his actions, he reached over to her plate and picked up a tiny morsel of meat, exaggeratedly bringing it to his mouth and eating it, making appreciative noises as he did. Her eyes on him, he flashed a smile at her as he swallowed.

"Pappo?" He offered again. The witchling shifted around on her bottom so that her back was now to him, scooted off of the blanket, and continued what she had been doing before his attempt.

With a frustrated groan, he pulled the map back out, unfolding it and searching for the next closest village. Standing, he waved away the remnants of their picnic.

"Time to go." Cedric told the girl. He carried her broom, and she clutched her doll and dutifully followed after him.


	6. Chapter 6

Even though he knew she wouldn't respond, or maybe precisely because she wouldn't, Cedric talked to the girl as they traveled. He told her about his father, about how difficult it was to grow up in the palace, doing poorly in his studies and constantly being told he was no good. Soon, he found himself venting about his frustrations with becoming the Royal Sorcerer only to be used for parlor tricks and promptly dismissed if even the slightest thing went wrong.

"You know, you're a really good listener, witchling." Cedric joked, patting the girl on her head.

They were approaching the next village, this one much larger than the other three. It was surrounded by fields and farms, with a bustling city center and throngs of people walking around. Cedric let himself feel hopeful that this would be where they would get some answers.

As they walked, though, he found this town was more of the same. Nearly all of the witches ignored or outright avoided them, guarding their secrets closely. The few who would hear Cedric out had never seen the girl before, and knew nothing to aid him in his search for her family. He found two witches who were sympathetic to her cause, promising to keep an ear out for anything related to a missing child, but nothing concrete came of their visit.

He had planned to search until dinner time, but the witchling was barely keeping up with him anymore, clearly becoming worn out from their journey. She also didn't seem to be handling the stresses of visiting such a densely populated village very well. Twice he'd had to drag her out from a hiding spot that she'd found while he was attempting to talk to someone.

Cedric frowned at himself, ready to admit that his mother may have been right about bringing her out with him. He would have to come up with a way to continue the search without her in the future. He led them towards the outskirts of town, immersed deeply in his own thoughts.

Looking around behind him, Cedric realized with a start that he had lost the girl again. He gave a groan and began searching for her. He spotted her purple clothed form in a nearby field, and hurried to join her. As he approached, he saw that she was picking berries off of a bush, shoving them into her mouth quickly, her fingers and face already stained with juice. _Oh well, at least she's finally eating something._

 ** _..._**

"Come on, witchling." He insisted, pulling her away from the bush she had eagerly plucking berries off of for nearly a half hour. He was torn between wanting the girl to eat until she'd had her fill and wanting to get on with his investigation. He used his wand to conjure up a rag and some water, and did his best to clean off her face and hands, though she squirmed away from him the whole time, complicating the process.

Checking the map, he saw that there was another destination just across the field from them, and decided that it would be their final stop for the day. He began to walk in that direction, but something felt off, so he turned to make sure the little girl was following him. He was stunned to see her squatted down in the field, instead, petting a wild white rabbit like a housepet. _That's rather odd._ He told himself as he waited for her to finish and catch up.

Soon, she returned to him, doll hugged firmly to her chest, and they walked until the buildings of the next village came into view. He was beginning to take note of the subtle changes that occurred in the girl whenever they approached civilization. She kept closer to him, her pace slowed so it would take longer to get there, her face fell and her posture became more rigid. He stopped and crouched down to reassure her.

"This is the last one, witchling." He told her in his most soothing tone. Her sour expression remained unchanged, and with a sigh he stood and continued into town.

"Hello, excuse me..." He spat out before the third witch he'd seen ran off on them. He groaned and scanned the streets for another witch, or a store worth trying. Unlike the last village, this one was small and practically empty, with many of the storefronts clearly unoccupied. He spied another witch and steeled himself to try again.

"Pardon me, if I could just have one second..." He began, surprised to see that the red-headed woman stopped to hear him out. They chatted for a few minutes, but she didn't know anything helpful, and eventually left, wishing him good luck before she walked away. Turning to address the witchling, he was annoyed to find her missing again. A small sound drew his attention to a nearby tree, and he found her sitting on a high bough, making chirping noises at a bird who was sharing the branch with her.

"Oh, sure, you'll talk to him." He griped up at the girl, trying to figure out how to get her down from there. He didn't dare use sorcery here, knowing no one else would speak to him if he were spotted. He begrudgingly settled on climbing up after her, though the task proved more difficult than he would have guessed.

"How in Merlin's name did you even get up there?" He demanded on his third attempt. The witchling simply wrinkled her nose at him, giggling as he landed on the ground, again unsuccessful.

"I demand you come down at once. Do you hear me? Descendit." He instructed the girl, jumping up to try and reach the branch, which only made her laugh louder. The bird flew off quickly, dropping a feather in its haste.

"Need some help?" A voice came from behind him. He spun to see a rather plain faced brunette stifling amusement at the scene.

"I can't get her to come down." He explained, turning back to keep an eye on the child, who had returned to making small tweeting sounds once he stopped entertaining her with his efforts, though the bird had already flown off.

"My daughter is a handful, too." The woman commiserated. She brandished a wand then spoke some words and the tree shrunk to half its size, allowing Cedric to grab the witchling and pull her back onto solid ground. The child rushed to collect the discarded feather, carrying it and the doll as she returned to Cedric's side.

"Oh, no... She's not... I'm trying to find her family." He stammered, taken off guard by the woman's assumption.

"Oh. Are they from here?" She asked, clearly willing to talk to the sorcerer. Having learned not to let the witchling out of his sight, he kept watch instead of facing the woman.

"I haven't the foggiest. I found her in the woods in Enchancia, but there's no magical villages in that area." He frowned as the girl began to wriggle her way under a bench, and hurried to coax her back out.

"Well, at least she found someone nice to take care of her in the meantime." The witch continued as she followed him. Cedric turned and frowned at her. _I'm not even fond of children._ He retorted mentally, but decided not to let her in on the fact.

"I have no idea what I'm doing." He admitted instead, eliciting a laugh from the woman.

"Well, I just moved here with my daughter. Would you like to come over? Maybe they can play together while we have some tea." She offered, watching Cedric try to pull the girl out from under the seat.

Deciding that he needed a break anyways, Cedric muttered his agreement, finally managing to grip the little girl's arm and get her out.


	7. Chapter 7

Half dragging the witchling with him, he followed the woman to a nearby house where a brown-haired girl, young, but larger than his companion, was swinging in the fenced-in yard. He nudged the witchling in the direction of the other child as the woman closed and locked the gate behind them.

She approached the other girl, and for a second he believed they would actually play together, but instead she continued past her before attempting to scale the fence.

"Perhaps you should bring her inside with us." The grown witch pointed out as Cedric rushed to pull her back into the yard.

"Have a seat and I'll put on some tea. What does she like to eat?" The witch called over her shoulders as they made their way into the house.

"Berries. It's all she likes." Cedric stated flatly, watching the witchling dash further into the house and out of sight. He began to follow her.

"Leave her be. The whole house is childproofed." The woman assured him, gesturing toward a seat at the table. A dull thud in the next room made him wonder if she might be underestimating the girl, but he sat down, thankful to take a rest from constantly monitoring the rambunctious child.

"You know, I've never met a sorcerer before." She told him, her back toward him as she worked. Cedric gaped at her, surprised at being found out so easily, and after all the trouble of leaving his robe behind and not using magic in town, at that.

"All witches have a special talent. Did you know that? I read auras." She continued, effectively answering his unasked questions.

"I'm Paisley, by the way." She introduced herself as she set a plate of biscuits and a bowl of berries at the table.

"Cedric the Great." He muttered, still reeling at having been found out. She studied him closely, making him feel uneasy since he now knew that she was looking at his very essence.

"What does my aura say?" He asked, unable to mask his curiosity. She gave him a reassuring smile.

"Yours is... interesting. It seems your heart and head are often in disagreement. You think yourself something you are not, although what that is, I'm not sure." She answered.

A louder crash sounded in the distance, and they both rushed to find the witchling perched atop a dresser, gazing into a mirror. A shattered mess of glass lay on the floor in front of the bureau, and Cedric assumed it must have been on top until recently. He pulled out his wand, seeing no good reason not to use magic in front of Paisley. Using the fixitus upicus spell, he repaired the glass into the fragile jewelry box it had once been.

Paisley smiled at him before bending to pick it up and finding it a new home. The witchling turned and glanced at him before returning to the mirror.

"That's you, witchling." He explained, taking a few steps forward to join her. She gave an excited squeak as his reflection became visible next to hers.

"She doesn't say anything?" Paisley asked him in disbelief, coming over to join them. The child growled as the woman's reflection joined theirs, causing the older witch to jump back a bit.

"Nothing. She seems to respond to Latin, but only slightly." He answered, wondering if he should make her get down.

"Hmm... It might help to try the villages that use Latin heavily, then" She offered. Cedric turned to study the woman, intrigued by the idea.

"I have a map. If you know which ones to try, that would be very helpful." He said, following her as she left to attend the now whistling kettle.

Once the tea was poured, she retrieved a quill and some ink, and they sat and examined the map, Paisley circling villages she thought might be good places to try and giving him pointers on blending in and getting answers. They heard a thud, which he figured was the witchling jumping off of the dresser, and he soon caught sight of the girl scurrying into another room across the hallway.

"She'll like that room. It's where all the toys are kept." Paisley reassured him, following his nervous gaze.

"What does her aura say?" Cedric asked, turning back to the woman seated beside him.

"She's adventurous and spirited. Very strong-willed. She'll be friendly in general as she grows, but it will be somewhat superficial. She'll only bond deeply with a select few individuals who catch and hold her interest. She's extremely intelligent and intuitive, bordering on psychic, but not quite. The girl is also a strong natural healer. It's probably her witch talent." Her eyes were closed as she gave Cedric her reading, most likely so she could focus on remembering what the witchling's aura looked like. Cedric pondered her assessment carefully while sipping his tea.

The front door opened with a bang, and the girl from outside rushed in, charging for the table and grabbing a biscuit quickly before dashing off for the toy room. It occurred to Cedric that he should probably supervise the witchling to make sure she behaved herself around the other child, so he downed the rest of his tea and stood. Paisley came with him, and he was pleased to find a sofa for them to sit on inside the room.

He didn't get much of a chance to rest, though, as the witchling was all too eager to show him the treasures she had discovered, dragging item after item over and holding them close to his face so he could inspect them. He played along at first, naming the held object for her in hopes that in her excited state, she might repeat after him, but she simply dashed back to find something else to present him with. Paisley watched the whole process with amusement.

"She really likes you, you know." She stated, laughing as the girl shoved a toy horse in his face.

"That's a horse. They're usually much bigger than that, though." He explained. She gave a grunt, dropping the item onto the growing pile on his lap and returning to the toy box, digging around for another prize.

"So it would seem, though I've no idea why." He replied to Paisley in mild annoyance, leaning backwards to avoid having his long nose whacked as the girl happily showed him a wooden toy coach.

"So you said you found her alone in the woods?" She asked in disbelief. The girl pushed the toy closer to him, still waiting impatiently for him to respond.

"It's a coach, child. Go play." He groaned, waving her away.

"Yes, I would have left her there, but the cottage was literally falling in on itself." He answered. He turned his eyes to Paisley when she laughed at his answer.

"Sure you would have." She replied lightly.

"You don't believe me?" He inquired, quirking an eyebrow at the woman.

"Do I believe that you _think_ yourself capable of leaving a small child to fend for herself in the woods? Absolutely." He frowned at her non-answer.

"But you don't believe that I really am, is that it?" He pressed, wondering uncomfortably if the witch was reading him again.

"Not in a million years. It's that whole heart and head thing I told you about earlier. There was never really a chance that you would do that, you merely think there was." She explained as she crouched down on the floor, attempting to show the wild girl how to build with a set of blocks so that she would stop pestering Cedric. Her daughter joined in on the fun, but the witchling simply gathered her doll and feather and left the room, the novelty of the toys having worn off now that she was expected to share them.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, in response to a review, I'm gonna come out and say that yes, this is a subtle chapter, and it's mostly intended to flesh out this new witch character (who we'll be seeing more of later), and get map locations marked for Cedric's search. Also, Paisley tells Cedric some things I feel like he needed to know about himself, though if he'll take those things to heart remains to be seen.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note:** Sorry, guys. I was camping over the weekend and I'm still packing everything I own. (OMG, why do I have so much stuff?!) Stories that had updates ready to go were taken care of, but this chapter needed some heavy editing, so it's late. Next chapter's all set and ready to go next weekend, so it won't be an issue even though I'm camping again. Also next chapter, we get a little drama... but that's all I'm saying about it for right now. ;)

Thanks to Suiren for keeping me honest, lol.

* * *

Paisley stayed in the toy room and built towers with her daughter as Cedric followed his young ward into the main area of the house. He grabbed another biscuit and sat at the table with it, handing the girl the bowl full of berries. She sat on the floor beside his chair and ate them happily, her treasures placed safely next to her.

"You're going to have to eat something other than berries eventually, witchling." He scolded gently, shaking his head as she stuffed herself.

They stayed until nearly dinner time, Paisley giving the girl refills on berries until she was lost interest, while Gaia rushed about the house playing loudly, making several unsuccessful attempts to drag the other girl into her games.

"But why doesn't she talk, Mama?" The older girl whined loudly as Cedric and Paisley drank another cup of tea.

"We don't know, sweetie." Paisley answered her daughter with a shrug.

Giving a frustrated groan, Gaia stormed out of the room, stopping to stick her tongue out at the witchling as she passed. Cedric opened his mouth to say something about it, but he wasn't really sure why it bothered him, and the smaller girl didn't seem to notice the action, so he stayed quiet.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Paisley asked him, walking into the kitchen. Cedric followed her with some of the empty dishes, setting them down on the counter.

"No, my mum is expecting us." He answered, watching through the doorway for signs of trouble, though the girl had settled down quite a bit since their arrival.

"Some other time, then?" Paisley smiled sweetly at him, and he nodded his agreement.

"Will she ever speak?" He asked aloud, as much to himself as to the witch. She clucked her tongue at him and laughed.

"I read auras, not fortunes." She reminded him.

They said polite goodbyes, then Cedric gathered their things and transported himself and the witchling back to his parents' cottage. It was his father who answered the door this time, back from his fishing trip with a few of the other elderly sorcerers from Mystic Meadows, and no doubt filled in on the situation Cedric had somehow found himself in. He scooted back to let them through the door.

"When I told you I expected a grandchild from you, this wasn't quite what I had in mind." Goodwyn joked, examining the little girl standing next to Cedric.

"She's not your grandchild. You know very well that I don't like children. I'll be returning her at the first opportunity." Cedric balked at his father's words, though he was relieved to find the older man was taking the news of his unexpected house guest so well.

"Any word, Ceddykins?" His mother asked as she entered the room and began to set the table. He shook his head.

"I now have a map of all the witch communities, and someone helped me narrow them down to the ones that are predominantly Latin speaking, but we didn't find anyone who knows her, yet." He recapped briefly.

"I'm thrilled to see you doing something so noble, son. I took the liberty of redoing her room so it's more suited to a young girl." Goodwyn exclaimed, his good mood too strong to be diminished by Cedric's words. Cedric eyed his father warily before making his way to see what had become of the guest room.

The room had been magically expanded and was now easily twice its original size, with a large four poster canopy bed in the center that Cedric suspected could put Princess Amber's bed to shame. The window had been pushed out to allow room for a padded window seat.

Cedric turned to stare at his father in shock as the witchling rushed past him into the room, only to stop in her tracks, looking very confused by, and not necessarily happy with, the changes Goodwyn had made to her space while she was gone.

"Quid vobis videtur?" Goodwyn asked the witchling, his question rolling off the tongue far better than Cedric's stilted attempts at the language. Cedric couldn't help but feel a smug amusement when his father's superior Latin garnered him no attention from the witchling.

Instead of responding, she eyed both men and then burst from the room, taking off through the main areas of the house, toppling his mother's easel in her hurry. Cedric recovered from his surprise and chased closely behind. When the easel crashed to the floor, he had a great idea, but she left him no time to think about it. Soon, they were running through the kitchen, nearly knocking into his mother as she was removing a large, steaming dutch oven from the stovetop.

Winifred protested loudly but managed to maintain her balance and her grip on the pot. After she recovered, she watched her son chase the young girl, smiling softly and shaking her head.

The witchling scrambled up onto the countertop and leaned to the side, attempting to open the locked back door.

"You could have just asked." Cedric teased, holding his stomach and panting. He unbolted the door and opened it for the child, and she gave him what he thought might pass for an appreciative grunt before dashing outside. He followed behind her, allowing the girl to explore her surroundings until Winifred poked her head out to alert them that dinner was ready.

"Intra domum." Cedric tried, but she made no move to follow the directions. He tried walking inside in the hopes that the witchling would tag along, but she wasn't the least bit interested, especially now that some local birds had landed in the yard, and she was trying her best to approach them. Shooting a glance back at his mother, who simply shrugged as she watched them, Cedric gave up and lifted the small girl, carrying her back inside and depositing her in the kitchen.

"What was that..." His mother began to ask, but was distracted from her question as the witchling raced back through the kitchen. She stopped to glance at Cedric, giving him the sense that she wanted him to follow again, and then the two of them were off.

"We could just walk, you know." He huffed out as she made her way to the bathroom and tried again to climb into the tub. Cedric shook his head and grabbed the girl, pulling her back into the living room and using his wand to magically lock the door.

"Baths are after dinner, witchling." He explained futility. She thrashed hard against his grasp, so he set her down. The girl tried to open the bathtroom door a few times before flopping onto the floor in frustration.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Apologies & Promises: **A little different from notes, but still. First, I want to apologize to the guest who said they like Goodwyn in the last chapter, because you're going to be very cross with me after the next few chapters. But I promise, if you stick it out, I think we'll be friends again later, lol. Second, I'd like to apologize if the cut for this chapter seems abrupt, too, because it was supposed to be the end of a two part with the last chapter, but it ran wild and turned into the middle of a three part instead. Third, sorry this chapter came out so late in the day. I was on a boat all day, and my phone had no service. :P I... think that's everything I wanted to say. I really love the reviews this story gets, and I promise that every question you guys have asked so far does get answered before the end of this story.

Oh, and we've hit 1,000 views! Which anyone who's followed my other stories might remember means BONUS CHAPTER. I'll get it out either tomorrow or the next day.

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"Ceddy, you know I think what you're doing is admirable, but maybe she's just too wild to be couped up here." Winifred offered as she placed dinner on the table in front of her son and husband.

Cedric glanced over his shoulder at the witchling. She had calmed down after it became clear that there would be no bath, and she was now sitting on the floor near his mother's couch, playing with the doll he bought her in the village.

"She's not an animal, Mummy, she's a child. She belongs inside." He said, his tone showing slight annoyance at Winifred's words.

"Don't worry, Cedric. We'll take excellent care of her while she's here." Goodwyn promised, tucking into his food eagerly.

Cedric looked down at his meal and then back to the wild girl. With a sigh, he took his plate and the one his mother had set for the child, should she decide to eat, and walked over to join her on the floor.

Wordlessly setting the plates down, he sat and ate next to her, hoping she would follow suit. Brilliant blue eyes studied him as he chewed his scone, and when she reached for her own plate he felt hopeful that he had won this round.

Instead, she picked up the parsley that adorned the plate and nibbled on it in a way that made Cedric think of rabbits. He shook his head but continued to eat his dinner.

When he was finished, he set down his plate for just a minute to use his napkin. A movement caught his attention, and he glanced down in time to see small hands replacing his scone with hers. He furrowed his brow, wishing he knew what the girl was thinking.

"Thank you." He muttered, though his confusion made it sound more like a question than a statement. Deciding it might be a good idea to reciprocate, he lifted the garnish off of his plate and transferred it to hers. Cedric couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that he felt as he watched her eat the parsley, but it was a pleasant feeling, so he didn't dwell on it much.

"Has she eaten any real food today?" Winifred asked, frowning as the girl returned to her doll after only eating the garnish. Cedric shook his head.

"Just some berries. Until the parsley, they seemed to be the only food she likes." He muttered, dutifully eating the scone she had given him, even though she wasn't watching anymore.

"Nonsense! A child can't live off of berries and leaves." Goodwyn declared in concern.

"Yes, I already told her that." Cedric replied dryly. Goodwyn stared at the younger sorcerer.

"Stop coddling her and just make her eat." He insisted. When Cedric ignored him and kept eating his dinner, Goodwyn groaned and marched over to them. Lifting a spoonful of cobbler off of the girl's plate, he grabbed her doll away from her and pushed the food towards her face. The witchling tried to dodge the spoon and reach for her doll, but Goodwyn kept it out of reach.

"Youll 'adepto is tergum si vos manducare." The older sorcerer spoke, narrowing his eyes at the child. Cedric didn't need to fully understand what his father had said, an anger was boiling up inside of him as the scene played out.

"L-leave her alone." He told his father coolly, stumbling a bit as he spoke.

"How many children have you raised?" His father asked him dismissively. Goodwyn continued to push the spoonful of food at the girl, pressing it insistently at her lips. It smeared across her face as she turned her head away.

He put the doll down behind him and reached out to turn her face back toward him so he could try again. The witchling bared her teeth and growled at him, clearly preparing to bite. Cedric didn't wait for her to do so, certain his father would simply blame anything she did on her being wild instead of admitting to wrongdoing. Drawing his wand, he pointed it at the older sorcerer.

"Give her the doll back and get away from her." He commanded, his voice full of venom. Goodwyn's eyes darted back and forth between the angry young girl and his even angrier son, opening his mouth to retort.

"Oh, Goodwyn, leave them be and come have your dinner. She's Ceddy's responsibility, not yours." His mother scolded, winking at her son as the elder sorcerer relented, standing to return to his meal.

"Fine, Cedric, have it your way. But she'll walk all over you if you're not strict with her." He griped. After putting his wand away, Cedric did his best to wipe the witchling's face as she squirmed away. Grabbing her discarded doll off of the floor, she fled the room. Cedric followed closely behind, pausing to shoot an angry glare at his father.

Catching up to the girl in the hallway, Cedric found himself at a loss for what to do to ease her. She was clutching her doll protectively and looking around, presumably for a good place to hide. Cedric opened the door to the guest room, wondering when his hands had started shaking. He entered, but the girl continued to stand in the hall, still looking unsure about what to do.

"Come on, witchling. Veni mecum." He urged. She slowly made her way into the redecorated room.

Watching Goodwyn try to force feed the witchling had brought up some uncomfortable thoughts about his own childhood, and he didn't want to deal with them right now. As he looked around the room, he realized that changing it without warning her was yet another act of force, a violation on a space she had already acclimated to. He considered changing it back, but it really was more suitable, and the damage was already done. He settled for helping her adjust to the change, instead.

"It really is a nice room. Much better than I could give you in my tower." He reasoned with her. Now that Goodwyn was back in the cottage, he found himself second guessing his decision to leave her here, and was trying to convince both of them that it was still the right choice. He knew nothing about taking care of a child, after all, and his mother could handle things he couldn't, like bath time and dressing.

He realized she was searching the room for something, pacing back and forth, looking under and over anything she thought might be hiding whatever she was seeking. He took inventory. She had her doll, and her feather was on the bed where she'd left it the first time they'd seen the room. Her new dresses were neatly hung in the enlarged closet.

Everything he could think of was accounted for. Yet, she now stood in front of him, her eyes imploring him to solve her problem. She gave a soft whimper. He wished she could just tell him what she needed, but clearly that wasn't going to happen. With a sigh, he scanned the room again.

* * *

 **Author's note:** So, I actually like Goodwyn as a character, but we've seen that he's stubborn and his parenting can be sort of strict/overbearing/old school/etc, and there's a contrast between that and the more pleasant interactions we see between Cedric with the kids in the show (like Substitute Cedric, and a few others) which I used as a basis for how he handles the witchling.

Oh, and what Goodwyn said in Latin basically translates to "You can have it back after you eat", in case anyone was terribly curious. I think the context makes it pretty obvious, but still...


	10. Chapter 10

**Bonus Chapter!** Thanks to everyone for helping this story hit 1,000 views! I'm fairly certain this is the fastest one of my stories has hit this milestone, and I'm just amazed.

So, bath time is less fun today cuz everyone's in a stinky mood. Also, because I was afraid of overdoing it, but now that everyone has commented on how much they liked it, I think I might sneak in at least one more cutesy bath before I end the story. ;)

* * *

"I don't know what you need, witchling." Cedric told her softly, acknowledging to himself that the words were true on many, many levels. The girl was a mess, cobbler still plastered to the side of her face, so he decided to try and distract her with something he knew for sure that she liked.

"How about a bath?" He asked, standing and leaving the room to head down the hallway to the washroom. She tagged behind until they reached the main room, then ran ahead of him as she grasped where he was taking her. When the door opened and she saw the tub, her mood brightened and she rushed to climb over the side. Using his wand, Cedric turned her peasant dress into a light purple swimsuit, deciding it was the best he could do if she insisted on only allowing him to bathe her. As he was filling the tub, his father burst into the bathroom.

"Cedric, what are you doing?" Goodwyn demanded, his face red as he glared at his son.

"I believe it's called a bath." Cedric answered sardonically, turning off the water and conjuring up bubbles for the witchling to play with. Seemingly oblivious to the argument brewing, she quickly set about popping them. She was giggling again, but Cedric didn't get a chance to notice.

"Your mother should be doing that!" The elder sorcerer blustered.

"I did it yesterday." He replied evenly, reveling in the look of shock on his father's face at this information. His father opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, failing to find words to express whatever it was he wanted to convey.

"Besides, Mummy said she's my responsibility, didn't she?" He added, soaping up the washcloth to clean the girl's face.

Goodwyn stormed out of the room as quickly as he had come in, and Cedric could hear the sounds of his parents bickering in the next room. The corners of his mouth turned up when the last voice he heard was his mother's, followed by the loud slam of the front door. He didn't want his parents to argue, of course, but he was glad that his mother had come out on top.

A short time later, while Cedric was cleaning the witchling's long auburn hair, his mother knocked on the door and came into the bathroom.

"Ceddy... I just wanted to tell you that you're doing a fantastic job. You don't have to do things like your father." Winifred told him gently.

"Nor do I want to." Cedric replied through clenched teeth, again feeling very anxious over the way Goodwyn thought children should be handled. His mother stood in the doorway and waited, sure there was more her son wanted to say.

"If I could take her to the palace with me, I would. Tonight." He griped, rinsing the witchling's hair. She was so relaxed in the tub that he worried she might fall asleep before he finished.

"I know you would." She stated simply.

"Why did you let him change her room?" He seethed. His anger wasn't at his mother, but he had nowhere else to direct it.

"I told him to wait for you, but he insisted. She doesn't like it?" Winifred asked in surprise. She initially thought it might be a bad idea, but it came out so beautiful that she was sure no little girl would reject it.

"It's unfamiliar. She just paces around the whole time she's in there." He explained.

It was hard to pinpoint, since the whole cottage was strange to her just yesterday, but today it was as if she'd come back expecting it to be as she left it, and it wasn't. His mother simply let out a hmm. Cedric drained the water and helped the witchling out, though she tried to resist the end of bath time.

"I wanted to paint her portrait before she went to bed, but he upset her too much." Cedric complained.

When she knocked the easel over earlier, it gave him the idea to paint her and bring the painting to the villages with him instead of dragging her around and stressing her out like he had today. His eyes went wide, and he turned to face his mother.

"What is it, Ceddy?" She asked him, furrowing her eyebrows at his strange shift in mood. Cedric didn't speak. He simply dried the witchling off and hurried back to the guest room. When his mother and the girl caught up to him, he was very nearly tearing the room apart.

"What are you doing?" His mother asked, standing in the doorway and watching curiously as he dug through the drawers of the dresser.

"The painting. That's what she was searching for." He slammed the last drawer shut and spun around, looking for another place it might be hiding. The girl soon joined in on the action, though she'd already looked all through the room.

"I'll go check the rest of the house." His mother said before hurrying off.

They searched for so long that Cedric was starting to think it would never be found. Just as he was about to give up, his mother came back, triumphantly holding the rectangular object everyone was seeking. The witchling spotted it, but seemed hesitant to approach Winifred to take it.

Respecting the young girl's boundaries, Winifred set it on the bed and stepped back, allowing her to scurry over and claim the painting. Cedric let her hold it for a while, then gently tugged it away from her and set it on the dresser where she could see that it was safe.

"It's time for bed, witchling." He informed her, using his wand to turn her bathing suit into a dry night gown. He tried to lead her toward the gigantic bed his father had conjured for her. He put her into the bed. Once. Twice. Three times. Every attempt ended with her wriggling free and jumping back onto the floor. He turned to his mother for help, but she was clearly as stumped as he was.

"Maybe... She doesn't like the new bed?" Winifred offered, though she couldn't see why anyone wouldn't love the giant, ornate bed that Goodwyn had conjured. Cedric frowned down at the thing, trying to puzzle out what the girl was unable to tell him. She was so snug in bed yesterday... but the bed was much smaller. He thought of her under the table with the chairs tucked in tight around her, or squeezed in under the bench in the village.

"It's too big!" He exclaimed, kicking himself for not having made the connection earlier. The witchling preferred tight spaces. They likely made her feel secure, comfortable. He glanced around the room for a place she might prefer to sleep, and his eyes finally fell on the padded window seat. Gathering up her pillows and blankets, he set up a cozy little nest for her in the window, and she happily climbed in.

"Oh, Ceddykins. I'm so sorry for what I said earlier. If anyone can help this child, it's you." His mother admitted.

She watched her son tuck in the little girl, taking care to give her the soft doll, and stifled a chuckle, remembering him insisting that he didn't like children just a couple of hours ago. As he began to sing to the witchling, she pulled the door shut, leaving them to their new night time routine. Listening from the outside, it warmed her heart to hear him.

 _Oh don't you see that lonesome dove,_

 _Sitting on an ivy tree,_

 _She's weeping for her own true love_

 _Just as I shall weep for mine._


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** I don't LOVE Cedric's dream, but I've rewritten it several times, now, and this is the best draft. I feel like I would probably keep rewriting it forever if I didn't have a deadline to keep. :P

* * *

"Cedric, I'm surprised to see you here." Queen Sara called as he approached. She often sat in the gardens in the moonlight, but only chanced upon the royal sorcerer once in a great while.

"My apologies, your majesty. I.. was actually hoping to seek your counsel." Cedric explained, hoping he wasn't intruding on the queen's privacy. While he wasn't overly friendly with any of the royals, Queen Sara was genial and approachable, so he wasn't nearly as nervous about speaking with her as he was when addressing her husband.

"No apologies necessary. Come and sit with me." She answered, patting the empty part of the stone bench for emphasis. Cedric sat uncomfortably next to the queen, eyes focused squarely on the plants opposite them.

"I'm sorry I nearly ruined your birthday." Cedric muttered his apology.

"Is that what you came to find me for?" She asked curiously. Cedric shook his head.

"I came to ask for some advice... with my niece. I want to get along with her, but I'm not particularly experienced with children, you see..." Cedric actually felt a tad guilty for lying to Sara, but he found he wasn't quite ready to explain the real situation. Instead, he told her about how no one could get the girl to eat, and how awful it felt to watch his father try to force feed her.

"What about your sister?" Sara pointed out, obviously wondering why Cedric and his parents were taking care of his niece.

"She's on vacation, so my niece is staying at my parents'." More lies. Cedric was beginning to think this whole idea was a mistake.

"It could be she just misses her mother." She answered thoughtfully. Cedric pondered this for a moment, but if that was the witchling's problem, he had no way to solve it, yet.

"No, she's always been picky." _For the entire two days I've known her._ Cedric added in his head. A quiet fell on them as the queen thought.

"Hmm.. Maybe try using the food she does like in a recipe, and have her help make it so she knows it's in there?" Sara offered slowly. For the first time Cedric faced the queen, staring at her with his mouth agape.

"No good?" She asked with a slight frown. Cedric shook his head.

"No, I think it might actually be perfect!" Cedric grinned, surprised to find himself excited to try this idea in the morning. He began to stand and head back to his tower, when a hand on his arm stopped him.

"You know, Cedric, I have tons of Amber's outgrown dresses in storage. Would you like to look through them some time and pick out some for your niece?" Queen Sara offered, giving the sorcerer a charming smile.

"Oh, I-I couldn't possibly, your majesty." He stammered, uncomfortably pulling his arm from her grasp.

"Nonsense. What little girl doesn't want to dress like a princess? I insist!" She prodded.

"Thank you, my Queen." Cedric voiced his relent, giving a bow and bidding her goodnight.

"Oh, and Cedric... One more thing." She smiled sweetly at him again.

"Yes, your highness?"

"When your niece is feeling more comfortable, I do hope you'll bring her around to play with the children." Queen Sara got to her feet as she spoke to him.

"Um... I suppose that could be arranged. When she's ready, of course." His voice didn't want to work, but he managed. He could just imagine the witchling loose in the palace, and he doubted it would go over very well.

When he got back to his tower, Wormwood greeted him with a loud, annoyed caw, and Cedric groaned as he realized he'd completely forgotten to feed his familiar, though he was sure the bird managed to find food outside at some point.

"Sorry, Wormy, I had a lot on my mind today." Cedric mumbled, retrieving the small satchel of seeds, and pouring some out for the bird. Wormwood let out another complaint and eyed him with annoyance before attacking the food vigorously. Cedric stroked his feathers before going to his bookshelf.

"I've had the strangest couple of days, you know." Cedric muttered as he scanned the volumes.

It occurred to him that maybe he could make the girl speak with magic, the way the magic shop doll was supposed to, but the search through his library was proving to be futile, and he only succeeded in falling asleep in his overstuffed armchair instead of his bed.

 **...**

 _"Let's go for a walk, witchling." Cedric announced, entering her lavish room and making a beeline for the closet, intending to pull a dress out and prepare her for their outing._

 _A lone lilac gown hung in the middle of the large closet, and Cedric furrowed his brow in confusion. Closing the door, he turned to examine the room for the first time since arriving at the cottage, but it had transformed back into his parents' usual guest bedroom, with nothing to suggest the girl had ever been inside._

 _"Mummy!" Cedric called out loudly, marching out into the hallway as fast as his legs would take him._

 _"What's the matter, Ceddy?" His mother stopped her tidying to glance up at him with concern._

 _"Where is the girl?" He demanded, checking under the table in case she might be hiding there again._

 _"Didn't you get my letter? Her mother came to collect her last night." Cedric stopped to stare slack-jawed at the elderly sorceress in front of him._

 _"Her mother? But I thought-" Winifred chuckled softly, shaking her head at him._

 _"It's not like you were going to keep her with you, silly. You'll be far too busy with your duties once you're king." She pointed out, handing her son a large crown that felt much too heavy in his hands._

 _"Yes... I suppose, I had nearly forgotten. Isn't that strange?" He muttered, as much to himself as to Winifred, as he stared down at the bejeweled golden crown._

 _"Well, now you remember what matters, so go out there and take over the kingdom for me, Ceddykins." She replied, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Cedric chanced another peek at the bedroom door._

 _"I'm going to miss her." He confessed plaintively, placing the crown atop his head and leaving the cottage._


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** So, a couple of things... 1) I toned this chapter down A LOT. I had to remind myself that this is a fluffy story, and not to overdo it. (Been writing too many dark stories lately, I guess). 2) This story will NOT be going on hiatus this month like some of the others, because I have up to chapter 21 completed, so there won't be any interruptions. 3) I know this is a slowish chapter. The next few have more development, and even some answers, but this chapter is part of getting us there.

* * *

Cedric rose earlier in the morning again, though he felt like he'd been run over by a carriage after all of the exertion of the day before, and he was having trouble shoving his dream to the back of his mind. Throwing on his clothes, he transported to the front of the cottage and knocked loudly.

His mother opened the door slowly, her expression filled with concern. Cedric grasped that something was wrong immediately, but nothing could have prepared him for the scene inside.

Pushing past his mother, he found the home even more torn up than it was the day before. Cushions were pulled off of the couch and scattered throughout the room. Glass was on the floor in several places, suggesting multiple objects had been broken. Uneaten porridge was smeared on the table and the couch.

"The witchling did this?" Cedric spun around to face his mother as he spoke. Winifred was avoiding his gaze.

"It wasn't her fault, Cedric." She spoke in almost a whisper. Cedric's mind raced. _Not her fault?_ Yesterday, when the house was half as messy, his mother was fuming, and now she was defending the girl. Cedric could sense that there was another meaning to her words just beyond his grasp. If it wasn't her fault, then whose was it?

"Where is she now?" He questioned, looking around but unable to spot the child.

"She's hiding under her bed." Winifred answered, her voice faltering slightly. Her words repeated in his head as he made a beeline for the guest room. _It wasn't her fault..._

Entering her room, he was surprised, though he probably shouldn't have been, to find it in a similar state of disarray. Bedding was torn free of the mattress, books were pulled from the shelf, clothing was scattered. His eyes trailed the destructionin in disbelief.

Ignoring it for now, he crouched down and peeked under the bed to find the whimpering child hiding beneath, just as his mother told him she was. He reached his arm under, but she scooted away from his touch, turning her head so she couldn't see him.

"Veni huc." He stated, his voice firm but not harsh. Nothing happened.

He tried to reach her a few more times, but the results were the same. Leaving the room for now, he marched into the kitchen to retrieve some berries, hoping he could use them to lure her out.

Unfortunately, this didn't work, either. Defeated, he sank to the floor next to the bed, holding his head in his hands.

"If you could just tell me what's the matter, witchling..." He complained with a sigh.

"I hurried over here to make your porridge myself. I was going to have you help me put berries in it, because maybe you would actually eat it, then." He blathered, though he knew his words were meaningless to the little girl. Leaning his head back against the bed frame, he stared at the ceiling, not sure what to do next.

"The queen offered to give you some of Princess Amber's dresses. She wants you to come play with her little girl some day. You have to learn to speak so you two can be friends." He continued despite her lack of reaction.

"I don't care much for the princess, to be honest. But I think you might, if you had the chance to spend some time together." He went on, hoping maybe the sound of his familiar voice would draw the girl out. He could simply use magic to move the bed, but she was hiding there for a reason, and it seemed wrong to push her.

"Seriously, why is Mummy's house destroyed? There must be some reason..." For the first time Cedric glanced upwards, shocked to see his mother standing in the doorway watching him.

"How long have you been there?" He asked, wondering exactly how much of the one-sided conversation she was privy to.

"Since the porridge." Winifred muttered. She stepped into the room and came to sit on the bed, stroking her son's black hair.

"It was a lovely idea, Ceddykins." She added thoughtfully.

"Yes, well, the queen gets the credit for that one. It does no good if she won't come near me, now." He griped, pulling his wand out and staring at it in annoyance. He could end this whole incident with magic, but it would be a mistake to do so. Once again, he was a failure.

"I think she's had her fill of porridge today, anyways." His mother hinted, her lips set into a frown.

"Did she eat it?" He asked, looking up at Winifred expectantly. She shook her head slowly, and he could tell she still wasn't giving him a straight answer.

"If you're not interested in telling me what happened, then please just go away so I can try to coax her out on my own." He grumbled, feeling irritable with her for hiding what seemed like pertinent information. She lifted her hand off of his head and looked down at him in surprise, not used to being the true target of his anger.

"Okay, Ceddy." She replied, exiting the room and closing the door behind her. With her gone, the only sound in the room was the soft, sad noises the witchling was making beneath the bed.

"Please come out." Cedric tried again. He got an idea, though he doubted it would work. Willing to try anything at this point, he cleared his throat and began to sing.

 _Fare thee well my own true love_

 _And farewell for a while._

 _I'm going away, but I'll come again_

 _If I go ten thousand miles._

He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard her shuffling beneath the frame. Not daring to peek under, he continued.

 _Ten thousand miles, my own true love,_

 _Ten thousand miles or more,_

 _And the rocks may melt and the seas may burn,_

 _If I should not return._

More sounds, and soon he could see soft auburn tresses out of the corner of his eye. Without moving a muscle for fear of scaring her back under, he sang the next part.

 _Oh don't you see that lonesome dove,_

 _Sitting on an ivy tree,_

 _She's weeping for her own true love_

 _Just as I shall weep for mine._

A whole head was sticking out from under the bed, now. There was no questioning whether it would work anymore. He just needed to stay patient.

 _Oh come back my own true love_

 _And stay a while with me_

 _For if I had a friend all on this earth,_

 _You've been a friend to me._

The witchling sat beside him, wide eyes staring at him, he could only guess for what. Giving her an encouraging smile, he finished the song.

 _And fare thee well my own true love_

 _And farewell for a while._

 _I'm going away, but I'll be back_

 _If I go ten thousand miles._

He could look her over now, and he had to force back a scowl at what he saw. Her hair was disheveled, her face was covered in porridge, as was the top of the nightgown he'd conjured her. Slowly, in order to keep from startling her, he reached his hand over and stroked her mangled curls reassuringly.

"Please tell me what happened..." Cedric begged her, though he knew nothing would come of it.

He could picture her sleeping soundly in the window seat the night before, freshly bathed, hair braided, dressed in clean bedclothes and clutching her doll. What in Merlin's name had gone so wrong between then and now?


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Okay, guys. Double chapters. Also, sometime in the future I'll be going back and redoing the older chapters so that each one = a day. Fair warning, I haven't done the math on this, so if we run through the remaining chapters before my October hiatus ends, there might be a pause in updates. I don't *think* that will happen, though.

* * *

The witchling wouldn't eat the food Cedric had brought for her, and he couldn't coax her from the room so he could bathe her. He was hesitant to call Winifred in to help because the girl might get startled and go back under the bed, but he wasn't sure she would stay out if he left the room, either.

He thought to transport them both to his tower and see if he had better luck feeding and bathing her in a different location, but taking her to the palace would only cause trouble. Besides, he was angry about the state he found her in and wanted answers.

His eyes landed on her doll, discarded on the top of her bed. The sight of it gave him an idea he thought just might work.

Cedric used his wand to re-enchant the toy with the same spell he used the day before. He stood and walked backwards, the doll following after him, and, as he hoped, the witchling trailing after the doll.

Pausing once to open the door, he led this strange parade through the house and into the washroom. He had the doll jump up onto a shelf before removing his enchantment. The witchling was already climbing into the tub when he turned his attention back to her.

He easily turned the nightgown back into a swimsuit, and ran the water, conjuring extra bubbles to reward her for following him. He took care to wash the soiled swimsuit as much as the girl wearing it. When he got to the unavoidable part of washing areas he couldn't, he frowned. She seemed content enough that she might allow his mother in, so he called her.

"Mummy!" He bellowed, still feeling annoyed with Winifred, but needing her help. She came bustling in, and wasted no time getting the swimsuit off and the rest of the girl cleaned up as Cedric sat with his back against the tub, adverting his gaze.

"I need to know what happened." Cedric insisted. Winifred sighed, studying her son carefully.

"Goodwyn wanted to prove that he was right. He thought if he could get her to be more cooperative before you came back, you would have to admit that his way works best." She confessed. Cedric's mouth gaped, though his mother couldn't see it with his head turned.

"So what happened?" He prodded, though there was a large part of him that didn't want to hear the details.

"He woke her up before dawn, so he'd have time before you arrived. He force-fed her the porridge, but the poor girl was so upset." Winifred summed up the ordeal. Cedric was quiet for a moment, a rage festering inside of him.

"And all the broken items and chaos that you said weren't her fault?" He ventured.

"She tried to run off from him and hide. Several times. All of that stuff just happened to be in her way." Winifred's voice was small as she looked the child over sympathetically. Cedric pondered his mother's words. Goodwyn was used to children who would eventually acquiesce to his demands, and the witchling's continued defiance only made him double down on his methods. Neither Cedric nor his sister ever really challenged the man. Disappointed, sure, but not challenged.

"Do you realize that he's completely set back any tiny amount of progress that's been made? She won't eat anything, now, and I could barely get her out of the bedroom." Cedric's voice cracked as he spoke. His hands were shaking at his mother's description of the events that went on before he arrived. Winifred simply nodded, her own voice failing her. She drained the water from the tub and wrapped the witchling in a clean towel. Alerted that it was now safe to turn around, Cedric grabbed an extra towel and dried off the girl's hair.

"I'm so sorry, witchling. Me paenitet." He told her gently. He found himself wishing she would look at him, but she simply stared at the floor as he spoke. He used the doll to lead her back into the bedroom, and returned it to her. Then, he carefully brushed out her wet hair and formed it into something that could reasonably pass for a plait. Picking her scattered dresses up, he laid them out on the bed so she could choose one, then helped her into it.

He studied the witchling carefully, double checking his handiwork. Satisfied with the job he'd done, he sat on the bed to let her play and give himself some time to think. He'd felt sympathetic to the child for being alone in the world, but now she had suffered a day of his father's parenting, and in a strange, sad way that made them kindred.

Finding her family was still a large priority, but now he had to watch her when she was around Goodwyn, too. He wracked his brains, but he couldn't think of a single other place to keep her. While he was considering his complete lack of options, she brought the doll up and set it in his lap.

"Not now, witchling, I'm trying to think." Cedric muttered absently, handing the doll back to the child. She put it in his lap again, demanding his attention.

"Later." He said sternly, though not in a harsh way. Once again, he handed it back. This time, she climbed up on the bed and stuck the toy in his face. He stood, turning his back on the girl.

The witchling began giggling, and the doll was in his face again. He brushed it away without thinking. He did this two more times before it dawned on him that at his standing height, there was no way the witchling could reach him.

The next time it came into view, he turned to stare at the girl. To his astonishment, she was standing on the bed, moving her hands around as the unheld doll flew about the room. Cedric's eyes widened, his mouth agape as he watched her play. Slowly, he backed toward the door, opening it quietly and peeking out into the hallway.

"M-Mummy... you might want to see this..." He called as loud as he dared, not wanting to distract the witchling from her game before Winifred could witness what was happening.

Winifred stood at the door, her astonished expression an exact duplicate of Cedric's. The witchling was now sitting on the bed, the doll standing upright opposite her and dancing atop the coverlet as the girl twisted her hands this way and that, controlling the toy with only mild difficulty. Every so often the doll would drop, no longer enchanted, and the witchling would give a frustrated grunt before regaining control.

"How is she doing that, Ceddy?" Winifred leaned in close to ask her son. Despite her attempt to speak quietly, her voice distracted the child, and the doll fell again. The witchling shot Winifred a piercing glance, brilliant blue eyes narrowed, before resuming her spell.

Cedric watched her play, a grin forming on his face. He finally knew what to do, all thanks to that doll. He gestured for his mother to follow him into the hallway so they could talk without bothering the witchling again.

"What time is he getting back?" Cedric asked his mother, still too angry with Goodwyn to refer to him with anything other than a basic pronoun.

"He's supposed to be home in time for dinner, why?" Winifred answered, her curiosity overcoming her enough to sneak another peek into the room.

"Good. I'm going out, but I'll be right back. And he is not to know about this." Cedric stated harshly, gesturing toward the witchling on the last word. He could only imagine what would become of the girl if Goodwyn knew she was capable of wandless magic.

Without another word, Cedric transported himself back to the palace. He tried to head directly to the throne room, but was intercepted by the officer who was supposed to be investigating for him.

"Mr Cedric, a word with you?" The man's deep voice requested Cedric's attention.

"Just Cedric is fine. Any news?" He quirked his eyebrow at the man, waiting impatiently for an answer. If her family was found, he wouldn't have to worry about any of this anymore, and could go back to his normal life. He didn't have time to ponder on whether or not that was a good thing before the other man spoke.

"Not much. Some of the people in Dunwiddie admitted to seeing the child on the edge of the woods from time to time, but no one knows who she is or what she was doing there." He summarized his findings for the sorcerer. Cedric looked at the man in disbelief.

"They saw an unknown child alone in the woods and no one reported her?" He questioned the inspector.

"They seem to believe she's a dryad. They were afraid she'd be separated from her tree... She isn't a dryad, is she?" Cedric rolled his eyes at both the peoples' assumptions and the man's question.

"No. How long have they been seeing her?" He inquired.

"The oldest report from Dunwiddie is two years ago, but people in neighboring villages have seen her as far back as three or four years ago." Cedric quirked an eyebrow at this piece of information.

"The girl in question appears to be about five. Are you telling me they saw a baby in the woods?" He frowned, trying to figure out this strange disconnect between what he was hearing and what his eyes told him. The guard shook his head.

"No, a girl of about three is what the other villages reported. Physical description seemed to line up with the ones coming from Dunnwiddie and your own." Cedric sighed and did some mental math. There was no way the witchling was around seven years old. Amber and James were eight, and they were much bigger than her. He dismissed the inspector with a reminder to keep looking, and continued on to the throne room.

He couldn't stop thinking about what the inspector said. If all the reports were true, the witchling spent up to four years alone in the woods. It took a bit of self control to keep himself from getting angry at the villagers.

If they had reported a child in the woods sooner, it might have been a less daunting task to find her family. She would speak, and play, and go to school.

Instead, she was a wild creature just learning everything about living amongst people. He imagined the lively little girl wearing a village school uniform, chatting with children her age on the playground. It was the life she should have been given.

By the time he was approaching the throne, Cedric was such a mess of emotions that he barely registered Roland asking him why he was there. He bowed, giving him time to steel himself and focus on the task at hand.

"Your Majesty, I need to request a leave of absence." He reported, surprised at how sure his voice sounded.

"Well, that's a most unusual request. May I ask why?" Roland asked, clearly caught off guard.

"I've been alerted to a... uniquely talented young girl. I'd like to take her on as my apprentice. I think if properly honed, her skills could be quite an asset to the kingdom. However, she lacks control, and I think it would be best if I go and assist with her training." Cedric avoided the king's critical gaze. It wasn't exactly a lie, wandless magic was indeed a unique talent, one Cedric had never personally witnessed before today. If the witchling learned to use it for more than playing with her doll, she could someday make a fantastic apprentice. He simply left out a few details.

"You can't just bring her here?" Roland questioned.

"The child is rather young and speaks a foreign language. I think she'd be more comfortable in familiar surroundings. Bringing her here could very well slow the process." Cedric hadn't foreseen that question, so he was patting himself on the back for thinking up the answer so quickly.

"What if Enchancia has need of you?" Roland continued. Cedric was beginning to lose faith in this idea.

"I'll... be s-staying with my parents in Mystic Meadows. It's near the girl's home. If anything should arise, it would be a fairly quick and simple matter to contact me." He answered. There was an unbearably long silence.

"Okay, Cedric. I'm granting your request on the condition that you return here immediately if summoned." Roland declared. Cedric gave a great bow.

"Thank you, your majesty." He said, his gratitude completely sincere. He quickly took his leave before the king could change his mind.

Hurrying to his tower, he packed some clothes and his most important spell books, then he used his wand to shrink Wormwood's perch, ignoring the bird's protests.

"Oh, be quiet Wormy, and meet me at my parents' cottage." He instructed before transporting back to Mystic Meadows.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** This chapter skips ahead a bit. I tried to go back and fill it in, but what came out was just tthat - _filler_. And mostly dull filler, at that. Ultimately, I decided to just upload it as is, a chapter that shows the interesting parts of Cedric's first couple of weeks staying in the cottage with the witchling.

* * *

When he entered the cottage, his mother furrowed her brow, looking at his bag and the irritated raven perched on his shoulder.

"Are you planning to stay a while, Ceddykins?" She asked, her voice light and her face expressing that she was more pleased by the idea than he had expected. He nodded sharply.

"It's the best solution I could come up with. Besides, it'll give me a chance to teach her how to use that gift of hers." He muttered, pulling Wormwood's perch out to return it to full size. Wormwood was still acting ornery, choosing to fly out the window and disappear instead of settling in. Cedric watched him go, waving an annoyed hand at him, then turned his attention back to his mother.

"Has the witchling come out of her room?" He asked, glancing around for a good place to put his things.

"No, but she seems happier than she was this morning. Not that she'll let me anywhere near her." Winifred reported. Cedric headed to the bedroom to check on the girl. On one side of the window seat, the painting of him was propped up on a pillow, and on the other side, the witchling was playing contentedly with a Jacob's ladder, turning it over and watching in fascination as the hand-painted blocks cascaded down the line.

"She loves that toy as much as you used to." Winifred remarked wistfully, pushing past her son to bring his bag into the room.

"What are you doing with my things?" Cedric asked, feeling quite perplexed by his mother's actions.

"I assumed you would be staying in here." She answered matter-of-factly, punctuating the sentence with a shrug. Cedric glanced around the room. There was a large, unused bed that would be much more comfortable than his mother's sofa, but could he really sleep in the same room as the witchling?

"I'm... not sure that would be proper." He replied. Winifred scoffed at her son.

"Oh, Ceddykins, this isn't the palace. And the girl is your ward, after all." Cedric's head snapped up at 'ward'. He glanced quickly back at the witchling, who was completely ignoring the discussion between the adults in the room. It was technically true, but he never stopped to consider it before. What would become of her if no family could be found?

He furrowed his brow, trying to imagine raising the child, but it was so farfetched he couldn't even picture it happening. The witchling didn't bother him, in fact he rather enjoyed having her around, but that didn't automatically mean he wanted to keep her forever, either. While he pondered on the uncertain future, his mother was busy at work unpacking his things.

At lunch time, Cedric brought the witchling some salad before returning to the main room and sitting down at the table with his mother. They had a lovely meal, Cedric showed her one of the books he was filling with his own spells and notes while she beamed at him with pride, they discussed some possible plans for taking over the kingdom once the witchling was returned home, and his mother caught him up on all the gossip around Mystic Meadows. They also discussed hiding the girl's identity so she could spend some time outside the cottage without raising suspicion that they were harboring a witch. They settled on a plan to enchant her hair and eyes to look like Cedric's.

After lunch, he brought the easel and magical painting supplies to the bedroom and painted her portrait so he could show it around the witch villages while he searched for her family. She seemed interested in what he was doing, so he gave her some nonmagical painting supplies and showed her how to use them. This proved to be the perfect distraction to keep the child still long enough for him to finish his painting and cast the glamor spells on her.

Ready to put the plan into action, Cedric produced his wand. He hated to hide those beautiful curls, but knew it was necessary for her to continue staying in the village. With a flick of his wrist, she had black hair with white bangs, just like his, but long and wavy. He started to enchant her eyes, but froze. He just couldn't do it. She had the most spectacular eyes he'd ever seen, and hiding them seemed like a sin. He decided that the hair was a good enough disguise, and put his wand away.

His work done, Cedric went looking for her doll, pausing to frown at her untouched lunch, and enchanted the toy so she would follow it into the main area of the house, a trick he supposed he would be doing often while they were here. As he backed into the sitting room, he heard his mother gasp.

"Oh, Ceddy, that's perfect!" She exclaimed, hurrying over to inspect his handiwork. When the witchling shifted her attention to Winifred, his mother looked up at him in surprise.

"I thought you were going to change her eyes, too." She pointed out, as if it weren't obvious that they were untouched.

"I couldn't do it." Cedric mumbled. Winifred gave him a knowing smile, then sighed and shook her head.

"I suppose it's good enough. You'll have to stick to our yards at first, that way you don't get into any uncomfortable conversations. We can't have someone asking you her name or anything like that." Winifred was already putting her shoes on, obviously planning on going out right away. Cedric did the same, but left the witchling barefoot, remembering that she wasn't overly fond of shoes.

As soon as the door opened, the witchling bolted for it, and it occurred to Cedric that it must be weird for her to be stuck inside after more or less living outdoors for so many years.

After that, Cedric conjured a magic ball made of blue light, and the three of them kicked and threw it around the yard until dusk. The last time Cedric caught it, he squeezed it between his palms until it disappeared, the witchling watching in quiet amazement, and his mother praising his skill indulgently.

A little voice in the back of his mind whispered that he could get used to this life, but he shooed it away. The tower was his home, and he had plans for the kingdom, as well. What those plans most certainly did not include was a child, even one with beautiful sapphire eyes that shined with innocent admiration for him, and a musical little giggle that he never seemed to tire of listening to.

Dinner that first night was awkward, to put it mildly. Goodwyn was not overly amused with the idea of Cedric moving back in, no matter how temporary they assured him the arrangement would be. Cedric was still too angry about the morning to be anything more than curt with his father. As soon as his plate was clear, he hurried off to check on the witchling, only to find yet another meal ignored. After changing her gown into bedclothes, he studied the small girl anxiously.

"You must eat, witchling. You have no weight to spare." He implored the child, who simply ignored him. He tucked her into the window seat with her doll and sang her to sleep, then sat on the bed, his thoughts refusing to allow him peace. No rest for the wicked. He griped. He stared out the window, wondering when Wormwood would stop sulking and return to the cottage. At some point sleep finally claimed him.

* * *

For the first three days, she ate nothing, leaving Cedric certain that she would perish. His mother kept insisting that no child ever starved themselves to death on purpose, and she would come around, but he wasn't entirely convinced. His father made one more attempt to persuade Cedric that she must be made to eat, but he was quickly shut down when Cedric reminded him that the tactic was why she stopped doing so in the first place.

Well after midnight on the third day, Cedric woke to nudges and whimpers from the girl. He sat up, barely able to make out the shape of her on the bed.

"What do you need, witchling? It's late." Cedric asked, ignoring the strong temptation to roll over and go back to sleep.

When the loud grumbling of her stomach answered his question, he hurried her off to the kitchen and threw some berries and lettuce into a bowl for her, then watched the child with overwhelming relief as she shoveled the food into her mouth. When the bowl was empty, he was quick to refill it before she could change her mind about wanting more. After her second helping, she came back to the bedroom with him, and he tucked her back in on the window seat.

When he woke in the morning, he was quite surprised to find her curled up on the bed next to him. He debated moving her back to the window seat, but didn't want to disturb her while she was sleeping in for once, so he threw the blanket over her and snuggled back in.

* * *

Cedric spent the next week trying to teach her more magic in the mornings. She caught onto the spell that conjured a magic ball, forming it between the palms of her small hands, and continued to enchant her doll, but seemed content to only perform those two spells, much to Cedric's chagrin.

She continued to eat the foods she liked, but it soon occurred to Cedric that she would only do so at the times of day when Goodwyn was either asleep or out of the cottage. If he was around, even if they were in different rooms, she would simply refuse anything Cedric offered.

After lunch, he would head out to search the witch villages Paisley had circled on his map, sometimes with the brunette witch in tow, showing the girl's portrait to anyone who would speak to him.

At dinner time, he would return to his parents' cottage tired and defeated, only to be greeted by a wide grin and sparkling blue eyes. Most days, she was proudly holding up some new masterpiece she had created, her face and hands covered with more paint than the actual canvas.

At night, Cedric would put her to bed in the window seat, singing her to sleep. By the next morning, she was always next to him in the big bed, instead.

This was how he woke on the following Tuesday, precisely two weeks after moving to the cottage. He rearranged the blanket to better cover the witchling, then crept out of the large bed, stealing to the kitchen to have breakfast with his mother. When he returned to the bedroom with the girl's leaves and berries, she was already up and playing. After she ate, he showed her some basic spells that she enjoyed watching, but made no attempt to imitate.

Wormwood flew through the open door, distracting the young girl from her studies completely as she fetched his birdseed from the top of the vanity and spread it on the bed, watching him eat and making noises similar to the caws she often heard from the raven. Cedric waited for her to grow bored of this game, then got her dressed for the day.

"I'm going out now. Wormy's in charge while I'm gone." He stated, pulling his vest and shoes on before leaving the room. The witchling paid him no mind, already too busy smearing paint all over her newest canvas.

Cedric said goodbye to his mother before transporting himself to a spot in Paisely's yard that was obscured by a circle of trees, the place the two had decided he should appear when coming to call. She was already waiting outside for him, her daughter dropped off at school over an hour ago. They picked a promising spot on the map and headed out.

Winifred checked on the witchling throughout the morning, quietly opening the door just enough to peek in and confirm that she wasn't causing mischief. For most of the morning, she was too absorbed in her artwork to get into any trouble. Each time, Wormwood was standing nearby, watching the girl work.

Just before lunchtime, Winfred filled a bowl with greens and left it on the low table in front of the sofa. It wasn't long before the child's grumbling tummy lured her out. She snuck a suspicious glance at Winifred, who was doing her best to pretend she wasn't paying any attention, before grabbing the bowl and hurrying back into the bedroom.

After allowing her some time to settle back in, Winifred snuck to the door and peered in to find the witchling sharing her meal with Cedric's familiar.

When lunchtime was over, she ventured in with a damp rag and attempted to clean the girl up, but she struggled away and dove under the bed, so the sorceress gave up and went back out.

Once in a while the witchling would cross the house to sneak into the bathroom, the door to which was now always left open. During one of these trips, Winifred was sitting at the table dipping bread into broth. She was surprised to hear the child's small footsteps approaching her, and even more surprised when the girl came to a stop right at her side.

"Would you like some?" She asked incredulously. She hurried to the kitchen to wet a rag.

"You need clean hands first, child." She scolded gently. The witchling fidgeted as Winifred wiped the paint off of her, but made no attempts to run away.

The old sorceress moved the food to the small table and dipped the bread in front of the girl, handing her the soggy piece and watching in amazement as she tentatively ate it. Understanding that the dirty look the child was now giving her meant she should back off, she gave the girl her space so she could eat the new meal in peace. She almost cleaned up the food when the child rushed back to the bedroom, cawing so loudly it could be heard throughout the house, but soon the witchling returned with Wormwood flying closely behind, and the two shared the snack, leaving Winifred to shake her head in disbelief.

Cedric arrived home to be greeted excitedly by the witchling, accepting her new artwork with mostly genuine enthusiasm. He reached into the bag he was carrying and gave her the toy it contained in exchange. Today's village had been unique in that it had a toymaker, and Cedric had taken this rare opportunity to purchase a set of tabletop nine pins for the girl. Unfortunately, it was also yet another dead end. He spilled the pieces out onto the table for the witchling, then skirted past her to let his mother know he was back. He stopped to inhale the wonderful smells of dinner cooking in the kitchen.

"How did it go?" Winifred asked, throwing a smile over her shoulder as she bent to turn off the oven.

"It didn't. How was her day?" He replied. Winifred's eyes flashed as she glanced out into the front room, checking on the child before turning back to her son.

"She came up to me." She told him, her shock not fully gone yet. Cedric stared at her as if she had two heads.

"Really?" Came his astonished question. His mother's head bobbed up and down.

"Just for a moment. Then, she ate broth soaked bread." She relayed, watching her son's eyes grow wider. She sucked in her cheeks, deciding whether or not to ask him the question she'd been wondering.

"Do you know she talks to Wormwood?" She inquired curiously. Cedric shrugged his shoulders, reaching past his mother to steal a flycake, only to be thwarted by a swat to his hand.

"Sure, she caws at him every morning." He answered, not thinking the behavior was all that odd.

"No, Ceddykins. She really talks to him. She called him out of the bedroom to share her snack. Those sounds she's making... He understands them!" It was her turn to be wide-eyed now as she filled him in on the details of what she had witnessed. Cedric remained skeptical, but pondered on this as he helped his mother set the table.

When Goodwyn came home, the witchling scooped up her nine pins and hurried back into her bedroom, leaving her dinner behind.

"That child is still not eating?" He questioned, his voice far too haughty for Cedric's liking. He opened his mouth to retort, but his mother's hand on his arm stopped him.

"It just so happens that she ate breakfast, lunch, and a snack today." Winifred announced. Goodwyn's shocked face greatly amused Cedric.

"Well, however did you two accomplish that?" He asked, his voice softer, conveying just a bit of awe.

"By being patient, Goodwyn. Cedric's way is what works for this girl." She explained. Goodwyn was quiet the rest of the meal. Cedric filled his mother in on his plans for the next day, then excused himself, cleared his plate, and returned to the bedroom.

The witchling, having become used to their routine, scrambled to her feet and out the door, racing Cedric to the washroom, excited squeals escaping her as she checked over her shoulder to make sure he was giving chase.

"We don't. Always. Have. To run!" Cedric panted out as he ran along after her, catching Wormwood's perch as she nearly toppled it in her enthusiasm and righting it before continuing. The raven let out a loud caw, and the witchling paused to give him what Cedric could have sworn was an apologetic look, then cawed back before ducking through the doorway. _No. It's impossible_. Cedric told himself, shaking his head in disbelief. Looking up, he saw his mother with her best "I told you so" look on her face.

Cedric closed the door behind them as the witchling clamored over the side of the tub, then magically changed her dress and began to fill the tub with water. The girl seemed to be even more impatient for the magical bubbles than usual, gesturing wildly into the air while Cedric shrugged off his robe.

"Alright, witchling. Bubbles it is." He told her with a chuckle, settling beside the tub.

When he conjured the bubbles, she seemed content to play with them while he massaged soap into her long hair. Now that he had a quiet moment to think, his mind was buzzing with all the information from his mother. Though he was thrilled that the girl had finally made some progress, he was strangely bothered by the fact that he'd missed all of it. He was just considering leaving the search to the palace investigator when a surge of water hit him, disrupting his train of thought.

"So you want to play, do you?" Cedric questioned, moving to the side of the tub and dipping his hand into the tub to splash her back. The child's laughter echoed off of the bathroom tiles, seemingly filling the room with glee. Indulging in the urge to hear more of her giggles, Cedric reached his hands in, working his fingers up under her arms and finding the ticklish spot there. Her feet kicked wildly in the tub, sending water all around them and soaking Cedric completely. When snorts and squeals gave way to deep hiccuping breaths, he let up and finished scrubbing her face and arms.

"Mummy!" He called out, just rinsing the last suds off of her shoulders. No answer came and he craned his neck to frown at the door. "Mummy, it's your turn." He tried again. Nothing happened for another minute or two, then his mother poked her head through the door.

"I'm not coming in, Ceddy." Winifred stated firmly, confusing the sorcerer with her words.

"What do you mean you're... Who's supposed to wash her?" They stared at each other in silence for an awkward moment as her meaning dawned on Cedric. "Well, you can't expect me to-"

"I can and I do. You need to start thinking about how you're going to care for this child if you can't find her parents, and bathing her yourself is the perfect place to start." Cedric's mouth gaped, not only at the daunting prospect of what she was suggesting, but also how stubbornly she was refusing. He took a deep breath to steel himself before turning back to the witchling.

* * *

After bath time, the girl was much calmer, as usual. She shadowed Cedric back into the bedroom, added the nine pins set to her growing collection of treasures, and snuggled in on her window seat with her doll. Cedric sang the usual lullabye, watching her eyes slowly drift closed.

 _Oh come back my own true love_

 _And stay a while with me_

 _For if I had a friend all on this earth,_

 _You've been a friend to me._

Cedric finished the verse and checked to make sure the girl was really sleeping.

"Good night, little witchling." He whispered before turning to climb into the bed. The sight of Goodwyn standing in the doorway, watching the pair thoughtfully, caught him off guard.

"Shouldn't you sleep on the sofa and let the girl have the bed?" His gruff voice questioned.

"She doesn't like the bed." Cedric informed his father. _At least, not by herself._ He added silently. Goodwyn seemed to reflect on this.

"I underestimated you, Cedric. You seem to understand this child far better than I do. I will... stay out of your way when it comes to her." He stated, turning to leave. Cedric frowned at his back. He may have hated his father's tactics, but he was starting to begrudgingly realize that his intentions were good.

"You don't have to stay out of the way. You could try just being patient with the witchling." Goodwyn turned and regarded his son quietly. Cedric was just beginning to think he would leave without a reply when he finally spoke.

"It'll be an adjustment for me, but I suppose I could try." He agreed, then left the two of them to sleep. Cedric climbed into bed, and sleep claimed him quickly.

He dreamt of the witchling. She was speaking in a twinkly little girl voice, having a tea party with Princess Amber and Paisley's daughter, Gaia. The three girls had dolls seated next to them, pretending they were guests at the party, too. James's wretched dog, Rex, ran through, wrecking the tea party, and the young prince chased after him.

Cedric woke up, blinking his eyes in the darkness. The witchling was tucked against him, her small hand curled into a fist against his chest, and he settled back in.

"Just how soon after I fall asleep do you sneak over here, witchling?" He asked the sleeping girl in a whisper. His eyes grew heavy again, and he slept until morning.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's note:** Yes, another time jump, but I have a feeling you guys will forgive me after you read this. :P

* * *

It had been one month since he found the strange girl in the woods. Cedric blinked his aching eyes at the light in the room, the comfort of the bed trying to lure him back to sleep. He had big plans for the day, so he ignored the urge to burrow back under the blankets.

Careful not to wake the witchling, he stole out of the room and into the kitchen, pausing to nod 'Good morning' to his father as he walked. About halfway through preparing the girl's breakfast, he heard her cawing in the living room, calling Wormwood to come share her food.

Cedric still wasn't fully convinced that she possessed some mystical ability to talk to the bird, but his familiar did seem to tolerate her presence in their lives better than Cedric would have expected.

His eyes fell to a sealed letter addressed to him on the counter, and he gave a groan. He was tempted not to open it. The letters from the royal officer came weekly, each just as useless as the last. Usually, he'd found people who recognized her but didn't have any idea who she was. Sometimes, he had been even less lucky than that.

Ripping the envelope open, he pulled the missive out and scanned it.

 _We came to a number of burned down villages just outside Enchancia's border on the furthest south east corner. Neighbors just to the west, also outside the King's rule, wouldn't speak to us about this anomaly, save one who said the residents were witches who had been 'dealt with' years ago by a Prince Roderick after an incident involving him being hexed in a manner most unflattering._

 _I'm also told that he wishes to rid his kingdom of witches entirely, but has had no further luck in finding their other communities._

 _Reports indicate there were no survivors in these attacks, so it seems unlikely that your child was among the former residents, and yet I felt I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't at least mention these findings._

Cedric stopped reading after that. He set the witchling's breakfast out and returned to their room, retrieving the map from the top drawer of the bureau. There were no villages, fallen or otherwise, marked in that section. Grabbing his quill, he penned a quick note to Paisley explaining that something had come up, and their planned visit would be delayed by a few hours, then used his wand to send it off.

He waited for the girl to finish eating, then hurried through the process of readying her for the day ahead. Careful to leave anything that marked him as a sorcerer behind, he led the child on the path that would bring them back to the charmacy the map had come from.

When they finally arrived, the blonde witch greeted them cheerfully. She tried to give the girl a treat, only to be ignored. Cedric told her not to take it personally, explaining the reaction away with the excuse that the child was extremely shy.

"So what can I help you with today?" She asked him, turning her attention away from the witchling, who had quickly made her way back over to the doll display. Cedric flattened the map out on the counter.

"There are no villages marked in this area, yet I've been told that there were several there at one point." He explained, the two of them leaning to examine the worn parchment.

"It's an enchanted map. New villages appear, and old villages vanish to reflect changes to the actual landscape." She explained.

"When did these villages disappear?" He asked, glancing quickly behind him to make sure the girl was behaving herself before turning back to the shopkeeper. The woman shook her head, leaving Cedric to wonder if she really didn't know or simply refused to tell him. He opened his mouth to try another line of questioning, but she was staring, wide-eyed and mouth agape, towards the dolls.

Following her eyes, Cedric found the witchling standing and waving her hands about while every doll in the display moved through the air around her, performing an intricate aerial ballet. There must have been nearly fifty of the cloth toys, and he was so amazed by her display of power that he nearly forgot what he had come for in the first place.

"Is that... normal?" The shopkeeper inquired, her voice barely more than a breath as she watched the enchanted dolls twirl and weave. Cedric leaned back against the counter, his attention still firmly on the witchling.

"Nothing that child does is 'normal'." He muttered.

"I mean... has she done that before?" The blonde questioned him. Cedric nodded softly.

"Never with so many at once, mind you. Just the one she has at home." He informed her. The child's eyes met his, and her concentration broke, causing the dolls to plummet to the wood floor.

"Bonum. (Good.)" He called to her, giving her an encouraging nod. She let out a throaty laugh, then went back to her play.

"I... There's a field with an abandoned barn on the west edge of town. Meet me there in about twenty minutes." The shopkeeper instructed Cedric. With a nod, he walked to the witchling, plucking the dolls down and returning them to the display. She made a dissatisfied noise, but used her magic to help him clean up.

Nearly a half hour later, the blonde witch approached the barn with an elderly woman, roughly the same age as Cedric's own mother, with two long grey braids extending down from beneath her orange hat, and sharp silver eyes.

"Cedric, this is-" The charmacy owner began to introduce her companion, but the other witch cut her off.

"No names, or I leave." She stated firmly. Cedric nodded sharply. "Is this the child?" The old witch asked.

"The very one." The blonde answered, practically beaming. The older woman glanced between the three of them skeptically, and Cedric deduced that she would need a demonstration before believing whatever it was the shopkeeper had said to lead her here. He crouched down to look the young girl in the eyes.

"I need you to make a ball, witchling. Sphera." He instructed her gently. She studied the new witch hesitantly, making no move to do as he asked. "I believe she'd like you to step back, first." He explained, ignoring the critical look the woman gave him. She backed away slowly, frowning down at the pair.

"Sphera." He told the girl again. She pressed her palms together, and when she gradually pulled them apart, a ball made of magical lilac-tinted light expanded between them. Cedric stood and held his hands up, and she threw it to him, her face and posture relaxing as she began the familiar game. He threw it back, and they went back and forth a few times, their audience watching speechlessly.

"Can I throw it to her?" He asked, pointing at the old woman with his free hand. Taking her lack of response as an affirmative, he tossed the ball in the eldest witch's direction. When she caught it, the woman held it for a moment, staring in total disbelief at the magical orb in her hand.

"Balthazar." The old witch mumbled, turning her gaze from the ball of magical energy in her hands to the girl who had conjured it.

"Pardon?" Cedric responded, moving closer to the woman so he could better hear her response. She threw the ball back to the witchling who, seeming to grasp that the game had ended, collapsed it between her palms until nothing remained of it.

"Birk Balthazar. He was the last in a long line of witches who could do wandless magic. The only remaining line capable of such a feat, I might add. His family begged him to marry another witch, but he fell in love with a non-magical woman from Galdiz. Together, they moved to a fledgling village, and had a child." She paused to let the information sink in amongst her listeners before pointing at the witchling.

"That child, to be exact." She continued. Cedric drew the map from his pocket and flattened it hastily as he stepped closer to the old woman.

"Please, can you show me on the map where this village was?" He implored her.

"It's not on any map. Not anymore. It was hazed to the ground, the residents burned to death. It used to be... here." Her bony finger shook as she pointed right where Cedric expected her to.

"How long ago?" He asked, allowing himself to hope that the details would continue to match up with the little he already knew.

"Four years ago. I lived here, and fled immediately after the first village fell." She pointed to another empty spot on the map, just to the left of the original one.

"You say they moved there? Is it possible there is family left in their birth places?" The shopkeeper chimed in, trying her best to keep up with the conversation.

"The mother had no family. The remaining Balthazars have since died out. Old age, you know." She scowled at them as she answered. Cedric could tell she was ready to leave, but he had so many more questions for her.

"The child only speaks Latin. Why?" She glanced at the witchling quickly, before turning back to Cedric. Taking a deep breath, she went on.

"The Balthazar family hailed from a village in the kingdom of Freezenberg, and the mother from Galdiz, as I said. It's fairly likely that Latin was the only common language between them." She turned to leave, but Cedric wasn't finished.

"Why didn't Balthazar's family approve of the marriage?" He demanded, determined to get as much information from this woman as he could. She rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated sigh, as though the answer should be obvious.

"Girls with one non-magical parent rarely inherit powers. Boys never do. That's why you see so few men in our community these days." She made no attempt to mask that her patience was wearing thin.

Cedric was so busy taking in the wealth of information that she shared that he nearly let her leave without answering what he considered his most vital question.

"Do you know her name?" He called to the retreating figure.

"Sofia." She shouted over her shoulder, and then she was gone.

The two remaining adults stared at each other in silence for a minute.

"The end of the Balthazar's line was a huge loss to the witch community." The shopkeeper finally informed him.

"Why is that?" He questioned.

"They were... The best non-magical comparison is they were royalty, but that's not an exact match." She spoke softly, watching the witchling pick flowers in the field.

"Princess Sofia..." Cedric murmured quietly, chuckling a bit at the idea. It suited her, somehow, though she was nothing like the princesses he was accustomed to.

"As an orphan, what will become of her if left in the care of the witch community?" He asked, trying to sort out his options now that returning her to her family was impossible. The blonde frowned at him

"If she can hide her powers... she'll be a village ward, most likely assigned to menial labor, and given a bare bones education." She answered. Cedric scowled at the idea.

"If she can't hide her powers?" He prodded.

"She'll be exploited for them. Plenty of witches would love to get their hands on a raw talent like that to advance their own agendas." This answer was even worse than the first one, and Cedric wracked his brains trying to come up with more possibilities. He could only think of one, though.

"What if she stayed with me?" He offered, though he still wasn't sure how he'd manage the child long term.

"We live in sequestered communities for a reason. It simply isn't safe for witches outside our borders." She gave a sigh after this, signaling to Cedric that she considered the other options to be worse.

"I won't let anyone know that she's a witch." He swore, scarcely able to believe what he found himself agreeing to. She nodded at him.

"That may be the best arrangement possible. Though you couldn't let her know, either. To be safe, you understand." She answered thoughtfully. Cedric nodded his agreement, and the witch departed from the field.

"Come along, wi-Sofia." He corrected himself, enjoying the ability to finally call the child by name. They walked until lunchtime, then found a quiet place alongside a stream to rest and eat the food Cedric conjured for them.

Sofia seemed extremely interested in the water, so Cedric used his wand to change her gown to a swimsuit, then kicked off his shoes and rolled up his trouser legs, and the pair waded into the water. He soon realized that the girl couldn't swim yet, having to save her once when she went in too far, and after that he was careful to keep her close as she splashed about.

Dragging her back to the shore when he got too hungry, Cedric sat down on the blanket opposite her, watching her eat and allowing his thoughts to wander.

He had never wanted children and knew nothing of caring for a child, he was the last person in the world that Sofia should be saddled with. Add to that the fact that she would need a proper education, but must first learn how to speak before she could be enrolled in a school, and it was clear that he was in over his head. The other options, though, were completely unthinkable, and he'd grown quite used to her company.

* * *

Cedric knocked on the door to Paisley's home, and shortly the witch answered it, happily escorting them inside.

"Your aura is golden, Cedric! Has something happened?" Her voice was nearly an excited squeal as she spoke, clearly overwhelmed by the sight. Cedric gathered himself up, gesturing grandly toward the witchling.

"Paisley, Gaia, I am pleased to properly introduce you to... Sofia." He declared, blanching as Paisley threw her arms around him.

"You did it! I can't believe it, this is so wonderful." She exclaimed, then she pulled herself back, blushing at her own actions. The witches had a different code of propriety than non-magical or even sorcerer societies, but it was clear that this was one place where it overlapped.

"Sofia, come play with me." Gaia demanded, grabbing the smaller girl around her thin wrist and dragging her in the direction of the toy room. Cedric took a few steps after them before Paisley stopped him.

"I know you're protective of her, but they'll be alright. Come, have some tea and tell me everything." She told him in her most reassuring voice. Cedric chanced another look in the girls' direction, but sat down to chat with Paisley. He wanted to tell her everything, and decided that maybe someday he would, but right now he was too busy remembering the warning that her powers could be exploited.

He'd only known Paisley a month and, though she seemed nice enough, her being new to his life coupled with the mistrust of witches that ran so rampant among sorcerers prevented him from trusting her with the most sensitive details of Sofia's history.

He told her what he could bring himself to, that the girl's village had been attacked by an aggrieved prince who wanted to eradicate the witches, that she was the only known survivor, and that both of her parents have no remaining family. Paisley listened in stunned silence as he recounted these discoveries.

"What's to become of her?" She finally asked, long after Cedric finished speaking. The sorcerer peered into his empty teacup, choosing his next words.

"I'm told that she'll fare better with me than she would if returned to the witch community." He explained, summarizing the discussion that led him to his decision.

"But a witch outside our villages..." Paisley began to protest, and Cedric held up his hand.

"I'll take her on as an apprentice, pass her off as one of us. It's safer that way." He willed the witch to understand, fully aware that his decision could be considered offensive. She nodded slowly.

"That would provide a good cover for her magic. Is that why you changed her hair?" The question made Cedric cringe, picturing the beautiful curls he had hidden away with the glamor spell.

"That's just until we leave Mystic Meadows. Very nosy senior sorcerers with nothing to do all day but gossip, you see. When I figure out a better place to keep her, I'll change it back." He answered, watching as Paisley refilled his tea.

"That's very smart." She smiled at him as he blew the steam off his cup.

"It was my... Mum's idea." He said, not wanting the undue credit. High pitched screaming from the toy room made them both jump into action, hurrying across the house to find the cause. Paisley reached the door first and doubled over laughing. Cedric furrowed his brow, skirting past her to see what was so funny.

The girls were chasing each other through the room, jumping onto the sofa, climbing the toy box, and leaping over a block tower as they ran. The screams continued, but now it was clear to both adults that the children were simply having a good time. Paisley walked back to the table, but Cedric lingered, the corners of his mouth ticked upwards as he watched the witchling play. Whatever came next, he suddenly felt capable of handling it. After all, in just a month the child had come this far.

The girls played together for the rest of the afternoon, and Paisley taught Cedric how to build a blanket fort, something both children were clearly thrilled with. They hid out in the makeshift structure, Gaia reading her favorite picture books to Sofia, who seemed enthralled by the pictures, while Cedric helped Paisley prepare dinner for everyone.

The children ate in the fort, which masked Sofia's refusal to sit at a table quite nicely, avoiding any questions from Gaia on the subject. The adults sat at the table, trying to ignore the fact that there was much less eating than playing going on behind them.

"Did I tell you that Sofia is seven?" Cedric asked, not able to remember if he had already said it. Paisley shook her head incredulously, clearing her mouth so she could speak.

"Honestly? She's so tiny. Gaia is only six." She pointed out, Cedric nodding in response.

"Yes. The prince and princess I work for are eight, and they're so much bigger than her. The queen has offered me the princess's hand-me-downs." He continued, taking a sip of his third serving of tea to wash down the beef.

"Oh, she'll look darling. Your own little princess." Paisley grinned at the thought, but Cedric winced slightly at the words.

"What?" She prodded, clearly amused at the reaction.

"I don't quite know, I guess it just takes some getting used to." He confessed to his companion.

"Well, you're doing splendidly. I can hardly believe that's the same wild girl who came last time. Look how she and Gaia are getting on, now." She said, gesturing towards the girls.

"She still doesn't speak." He reminded her pointedly.

"She may never. Would that be the worst thing in the world?" Paisley asked, standing to clear her dish. Cedric collected his own and followed behind her.

"I mean, I suppose not. It would be nice to hear her, though. I dream about it sometimes." He confessed, scraping off his plate before setting it on the counter. Paisley smiled warmly at him.

It was getting late, so Cedric coaxed Sofia out of the fort, and they said their goodbyes before transporting back to the cottage.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I'm so nervous to post this chapter (actually, two chapters combined), and I really hope everyone likes it. I've had this all planned out in my mind since I started the story, so it feels really great to let all of you in on it. I thought about breaking it up so he had to chase clues through the next few updates, but the first chapter really wrote itself and felt pretty natural. Plus, let's be honest, most readers are in it for the fluff of Cedric being Sofia's temporary (well permanent, now) guardian, and not for the mystery behind how.

Besides, there's still the question of how Sofia escaped the raids, but I think if I get into that, it'll be a separate little one-shot. Put it on the list of someday projects, lol.


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note:** So this is just a quick glimpse of Cedric's first few days as 'dad'. Next chapter has a time jump and some more 'meaty' content.

* * *

They had barely stepped into the cottage when his mother began hounding Cedric about the day's events.

"Any news, Ceddykins?" She asked, stepping back into the front room so they could move forward.

"Yes, actually." He answered, craning his neck to look past her to his father.

"You'll want to hear this, too." He called, watching as the older man turned to face them.

"Get on with it, Ceddy!" Winifred insisted, practically bouncing on her heels with excitement.

"I'm pleased to present... Sofia Balthazar." He announced, nearly falling backwards as his mother embraced him unexpectedly.

"Sofia." His father said, trying the name out for the first time.

"I like it." His mother chimed in.

"It's a lovely name for a lovely girl." Goodwyn added.

"That's... not all." Cedric began as Sofia hurried off to the bedroom, leaving him to recount her family history to his parents, though he saved the wandless magic part to tell his mother in private later.

When they finally finished pestering him with a million questions. Cedric made his way to the bedroom. Sofia was seated cross-legged on the floor, gingerly stroking Wormwood as he pecked birdseed off of the wood.

"You feed him too much. He's going to get too fat to fly." He scolded her playfully. Wormwood cawed at him, then went back to his snack. Sofia yawned loudly, rubbing her eyes, and it dawned on Cedric that it was well past the child's bedtime.

"I suppose we could skip your bath, just this once." He commented, leading the little girl to her spot. She happily accepted her doll and snuggled in as he tucked the blanket around her.

"You're going to stay with me, Sofia. I hope you don't mind. I have nothing to offer a child, and no idea what I'm doing, but I think, if we stick together, we just may figure it out." He smoothed her enchanted white bangs away from her face, and began to sing.

 _Fare thee well my own true love_

 _And farewell for a while._

 _I'm going away, but I'll come again_

 _If I go ten thousand miles._

Her eyes closed during the very first verse, and he sat watching her sleep for a few minutes before settling himself into the bed.

The next morning was spent in the village nearest to Hexley Hall. Cedric bought Sofia some proper shoes, two nightgowns, a child's sized sorceress robe and hat, and a handful of picture books. He took the opportunity to replenish his mother's stock of canvases, though they didn't sell non-magical paints, and he wasn't sure she was ready for the magical variety. Latin for Novices was an exciting find for Cedric, as he could use the refresher, and he hoped the witchling might be more likely to speak if he worked on the goal in her native tongue. He used his wand to send each new purchase back to their room, save the shoes, which he put on her right away, returning the borrowed ones instead.

The rest of the day was dedicated to going through the Latin book and trying to pin down exactly what Sofia already understood. From what he could tell, this included some of the words for body parts, such as hands and feet, a few simple commands, and the words for ball and food, though it was hard to tell for certain. Cedric tried not to get too discouraged by how small her vocabulary actually was, but he was starting to realize how truly daunting the task of teaching her language was going to be.

After he put her to bed for the night, he penned two quick letters, one to the inspector to call off the investigation and thank him for his troubles, and one to the king to extend his leave and express his concerns about Prince Roderick's actions just outside their border. Then he sat up, reading the Latin book by the light of a small candle. It was only about an hour before Sofia crept across the room and climbed into the bed, and Cedric wondered if it always happened this early. He set his book aside, blew out the candle, and settled in for the night.

The next day, they slept in until lunch time. Cedric woke to Sofia flipping through one of her new books, making small squeaking sounds to imitate how Gaia had sounded when she read the words out loud. Beside her, Wormwood was pecking at a pile of seed, occasionally stopping to look at a picture she held up for him. Cedric watched for a while, hesitant to interrupt. When she started to wiggle in her spot, though, he made her get up to do her business.

Then they sat down for lunch, Cedric glad to see that she would now eat in the living room while Goodwyn was sitting at the table. He never blamed her for being wary of his father, but any progress she made was good progress.

"You're teaching her your bad habits, Cedric. She should be rising earlier." Goodwyn scolded, though his voice was less harsh than it usually was when he admonished his son.

"She had a rather big day, yesterday. I figured she needed the sleep." Cedric answered with a shrug.

"Yes, but Hexley Hall's first period begins at seven in the morning. You need to get her used to the schedule." He insisted, holding his cup steady while Winifred refilled his black tea.

Cedric tried to process these words, his mental image of the girl in a Dunwiddie Elementary uniform refusing to morph into one with her in a basic yellow gown with a navy Hexely Hall robe over it.

"What makes you so certain that she'll go there? I thought she might go to the village school." He answered, avoiding his father's gaze.

"Nonsense! Of course any granddaughter of Goodwyn the Great's would attend Hexley Hall." He pressed. His face changed from determination to suspicion, and he looked over his shoulder at the child. Cedric opened his mouth to argue yet again that she wasn't his granddaughter, then realized that it was more or less true, now.

"Have you seen her use magic, yet?" Goodwyn quietly inquired, turning back to study Cedric, who tried to keep the redness out of his face as he answered in half-truth.

"She was riding that broom when I found her, and I taught her to enchant her doll." He muttered, hoping his father would accept this answer without asking for proof.

"Can I see?" Goodwyn pushed, his face lit up with genuine excitement. Cedric tried to think of a good excuse to avoid a demonstration, but his mother spoke first.

"Ride a broomstick? In Mystic Meadows? Honestly, Goodwyn, where is your head?" She demanded, hoping that would end the conversation.

"The other part, then. Where's the child's doll?" He pressed on, unphased by his wife's words.

"Yo-you know she doesn't... do things when you tell her to." Cedric stammered out. Goodwyn shook his head, a frown forming on his face.

"Well, I want you to come get me the very next time she does it." He conceded, returning to his food. Cedric stifled a sigh of relief.

"Someone at Hexley Hall might discover her. Can you imagine what would happen if it came out that she was actually a witch?" Cedric pointed out, though he was still on the fence about the school. They may very well be able to teach her how to use her powers, which would be good for the child, but there was definitely some risk involved.

"No one would have reason to suspect. You don't look for something unless you think it's there. If she comes from our family and uses magic, they'll just assume she's a sorceress." Goodwyn stated firmly. Cedric nodded slowly, absorbing what seemed like sound logic.

"I'll have to think about it." He finally compromised. Finishing up his meal, he hurried Sofia back to their room, where he did his best to give her Latin and English lessons, conjuring items and naming them in both languages, until they both needed a break.

Fetching them a snack, he focused on his thoughts as they ate. Hexley Hall could teach her control, and all the magic a young girl needed to know, but how would they react to her wandless magic? And what if she was discovered to be a witch, despite Goldwyn's assurances that she wouldn't be? He had time to think about it, as he would need to give her lessons in the cottage until she was caught up to the abecedarians, at least. And then there was the palace. He needed to get back to his normal life, albeit with the addition of this child. He'd already been away for over a month, and there was no telling how much longer it would be until she was ready to handle the demands of life in the palace. He idly reached out a gloved hand and stroked Sofia's black hair, answering her adoring gaze with a slight smile. Yes, there were a million things to consider, but he had promised her they'd get through it together, and he was determined to stay true to his word.

After snack, they worked on magic lessons until it was time for dinner, then her bath. Their bedtime routine expanded to include story time, Cedric reading one of her picture books as she snuggled into her window seat, listening intently as he spoke. Then he sang her to sleep.

With the investigation officially closed, and Cedric left with his entire days free, this became her new daily routine, with the exception that Cedric did, in fact, begin to get Sofia up earlier in the morning, spending the extra hours painting side by side, and playing together on his mother's cottage organ. He also made it a point to get her outside, either in the yard or out for a walk about Mystic Meadows for at least an hour after lunch every day. If Cedric had to use one word to describe their life at the moment, it would be 'idyllic', but he knew there was still so much to do.


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's notes:** As some of you know, I was on vacation last week. This week, I have no excuse for being late except that I was busy catching up around the house, and also I was extremely nervous about posting this chapter, so I kept finding things that I HAD to do before I stopped to update. Bad Fidget! So, this may or may not be the last chapter. I have long been intending to end this story and begin a sequel that brings Sofia to the palace and an AU version of her life and adventures there. To be honest, I already have some of that written. I still have some ideas floating around about the cottage, though, so it really depends on whether or not I can flesh any of them out into proper chapters.

* * *

Six months. Cedric had been away from the palace for six whole months, and still Sofia didn't speak a word, or cast any new spells. She could dress and undress herself except for fasteners and laces. She seemed to grasp nearly fifty new Latin words and at least three in English. She would approach either of his parents when she wanted something and Cedric wasn't available, and sometimes she would drag a book or toy to Winifred so they could play or read together.

By all other measures, Sofia had come leaps and bounds beyond the wild girl who Cedric discovered in the woods, though she still tore up the house by streaking through it, squealing with delight and climbing the furniture while Cedric tried to wrangle her and bring her back to her lessons. To his chagrin, Wormwood now joined her in this game, flying swiftly along side the girl and cawing out a warning every time Cedric was gaining on her.

With a groan, Cedric sat up and stretched, then began shaking Sofia awake. She did her best to bury her face back into his stomach, but he persisted and she finally woke up. They went through the process of getting ready for the day, then ate a quick breakfast and started music lessons.

They'd been working on a recently published piece titled Für Elise, the most simplistic one he could find in his mother's collection. As usual, he sat and demonstrated while Sofia listened, seemingly enchanted with his playing. Then, she sat down and tried it herself, her unskilled fingers working hard, but sorely missing their mark. Cedric no longer cringed at the cacophony of notes the piano spat out at her attempts, and she was improving a little.

"Iterum. (Again)" He instructed, pressing a key so she could match the word to the action he expected, a trick he had picked up since he started staying in to work with her. Those blue eyes stared at him intensely, and her hands retracted from the piano, fingers still hovering in the air above the keys.

Thinking she was trying to stop early, he opened his mouth to repeat himself, but quickly shut it again when the piano began to play, her fingers dancing several inches above it.

He watched in stunned silence as the bewitched instrument played the piece almost flawlessly. Backing slowly towards the kitchen, he poked his head into the doorway and waved his hands to get his mother's attention.

"What is it, Ceddy?" Winifred asked, but he hurried to shush her, practically dragging her out into the sitting room. It was her turn to look shocked as she approached the piano, and the two of them stood in silence until the song was over. It took nearly a full minute for Cedric to find his voice.

"Yes, well... I-I believe that will be all for this m-morning." He stammered, exchanging glances with Winifred, who simply shook her head in confusion. Cedric pondered this event. If she could play it magically but not manually, perhaps she had the song memorized in her head, but couldn't make her hands cooperate.

He wondered if the same was true for words and speaking. The thoughts were there, but the body still incapable. This theory gave him some hope that she'd find her voice with more practice.

He helped put Sofia's smock on and tied the back, and she eagerly ran to her easel, clearly favoring painting the most out of all her lessons.

"Are you ready now?" He asked, walking over to the easels and opening their paint pots. Sofia dipped her brush into the purple and eagerly began painting. Cedric tried to focus on his own work, thrilled to have an excuse to paint daily, something he didn't often find time for back in his tower. Sofia kept glancing over at him, an unfamiliar expression on her face, and eventually he just stopped and watched her work.

Finally, she finished painting and turned her back to him so he could remove her smock. After he complied, she faced him, eyes turned toward him expectantly. He looked over her painting, an indistinguishable mess of wet colors, then smiled down at her.

"Quid est id? (What is it?)" He asked her gently, figuring she would ignore him to run off and sit for the lunch his mother was bringing out from the kitchen.

"Cee... Cee-drick." She forced out. Cedric's eyes shot opened, his jaw going slack. His brain shut off, refusing to process what had just occurred. Behind him, he could hear Winifred gasp, and the distinct sound of a plate smashing on the floor.

"Iterum? (Again?)" He asked, sure that he had simply imagined it.

"Cee-drick." Her voice was everything he'd imagined, though he winced a bit at the butchering of his forename. He decided to worry about that another time, as his mother was already scooping the girl up in her arms, cooing over her and lavishing her face with kisses. Cedric watched the two of them in stunned silence until Winifred put her down, then crouched to look the child in the eyes.

"It's so good to finally hear your voice, Sofia." Cedric told her. She surprised him once again when she threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly. He let out a slight chuckle and stroked his hand down her wavy black hair.

After lunch, Cedric decided to celebrate by canceling her afternoon lessons, instead taking her for an extended walk around Mystic Meadows. When they reached the community centre, Winifred decided it was about time that they took her inside. The idea unnerved Cedric, but Winifred reassured him that it would be fine.

"Well... Who do we have here?" An old sorcerer with shaggy white hair and a long, pointed, matching beard approached them as they entered the building.

"Marshak, this is my son Cedric." Winifred introduced the men, and Marshak extended his hand. Cedric shook it hesitantly, still feeling apprehensive.

"Goodwyn has told me all about you, Cedric." Marshak told him, patting him on the back. Cedric frowned, wondering just what his father had said about him. Marshak crouched down to smile at the little girl beside Cedric, but she shrank back, hiding behind the familiar sorcerer's purple robe.

"And who is this little beauty?" He asked, unphased by her reaction.

"Sofia." Cedric stated simply, avoiding the man as he stood and looked Cedric over again.

"She's Cedric's." Winifred added, and Cedric noticed how she had artfully inferred he was the girl's father without actually saying as much. Sofia peeked back out, presumably to see if the older sorcerer was gone, yet.

"Yes, I see the resemblance." Marshak mused, gesturing for them to follow him further into the main room.

"Does your little girl like fly cakes?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder at the trio.

"No. She's a bit of a picky eater." Cedric explained. He looked around the room until his eyes fell on his father. Winifred spotted him at the same time, and hurried over to speak to him. She gave him a nudge and a nod, and he followed her gaze back to Cedric. Soon, he and Winifred were crossing the room to stand by the group.

"Marshak, I see you've met my family." Goodwyn's deep voice proceeded him as he approached.

"Yes, though I'm not sure the little one is too fond of me." The man chuckled good naturedly. Goodwyn shrugged at his friend.

"I'm afraid our Sofia is shy." He answered, catching Cedric's eyes. The younger sorcerer knew that this pretense was necessary for the girl to stay in the cottage, so he nodded his agreement.

"I don't remember ever hearing about this granddaughter..." Marshak said, his words alarming Cedric. How could they not have considered how odd it would be that Goodwyn had a granddaughter this age without ever mentioning her before.

"Oh, you've gone soft in the head, old man. I talk about Sofia all the time. She's the one who enchants her dolls." Goodwyn was unflappable, and Cedric almost admired him for it. Marshak seemed to consider his words.

"Oh... yes, yes. I seem to remember that." His voice and crimson face gave away that he did not, in fact, remember any such thing, but didn't want the embarrassment of seeming like his memory was slipping.

"Will she be attending Hexley Hall next year?" Marshak persisted once he recovered his composure.

"Possibly." Cedric replied.

"Yes." Goodwyn answered at the same time. Marshak looked back and forth between them.

"Which is it?" He questioned in confusion.

"I'm homeschooling her at the moment. I'm not sure when or if I will transfer her." Cedric replied, glad he didn't have to think up a false answer for the question.

His reply seemed to amuse Marshak, but nothing further was said about it. Instead, the old sorcerer began bragging to Goodwyn about his own grandchildren, and how they were all accepted into Hexley Hall and receiving the highest marks.

Cedric took the opportunity to excuse himself, ushering Sofia away from the elderly men. He found his mother sitting down to play checkers with another woman. Unlike Marshak, his mother's friend simply attempted to dote on Sofia, without an interrogation about the girl. Sofia watched the women play curiously, and Cedric began to relax.

The little girl made several attempts to reach onto the table and grab the wooden circles off of it, clearly just wanting to inspect the pictures carved into the centers of the pieces. She was thwarted every time by a good natured shooing away by the older women. A man approached to say hello, and, while the other sorceress was distracted, Sofia glanced up at Winifred quickly before lifting her hand towards the game set.

One of the darker checkers flew into her palm, and she ran off with it. Cedric gave a sigh and chased after her, thankful that she had not been spotted by his mother's companions. When he caught up to her, she was tucked under an empty table in the corner, turning the puck over and over in her hands.

"It's a checker, Sofia." He informed her when her blue eyes looked to him for an answer. She pointed to the middle of it.

"That's a lion." He named the picture for her. She flipped the piece over and pointed to the other side.

"A crown. Now I'm afraid you must give it back to Mummy. She can't play without it." Sofia ignored his words, not that it was unusual for her to do so.

"Praebeo Mummy. (Give it to Mummy.)" He tried again, surprised to see her crawl out from under the table and slowly make her way back towards the women. He hurried to follow suit, and arrived just as she held the game piece out to his mother.

"M-Mummy." She said, her voice a bit unsteady as she copied Cedric's accented version of the word. Winifred stared at her in awe for a moment before accepting the object.

"Benigne, Sofia. (Thank you.)" She stated softly, tossling the girl's white bangs.

Deciding they couldn't risk another show of Sofia's wandless magic, Cedric announced that they needed to return to her lessons and quickly left the building, his head buzzing with excitement. She'd said two new words, responded to his Latin instructions, and used her magic in new ways. He had started the morning feeling like progress in these areas might never come, and she had proved him so very wrong.

* * *

"You really ought to have her call you dad, or father... something more convincing than Cedric." Goodwyn insisted, shrugging off his robe and hanging it before sitting down to dinner. Cedric considered this, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm not her father, though." He pointed out, peeking behind him at the child who was ignoring her dinner to share a picture book with Wormwood.

"What would you call it, then? Sofia is yours, now, and you'd better get used to it if you intend to help her keep her secret. Calling you by your name is only going to draw attention." Goodwyn had him there, but still Cedric hesitated. The girl had a father, once, and trying to step into the man's shoes seemed disrespectful.

In the months since he'd officially taken responsibility for Sofia, Cedric had developed an odd sort of reverence for her parents. After all, if it weren't for them, both their marriage and untimely death, she wouldn't be in his life. On the other hand, he'd sworn to protect her identity, and it would improve the charade to have her call him by a more typical title.

"I'll need some time to think about it..." He answered hesitantly, unsure of which path to choose. Goodwyn nodded with an unexpected amount of understanding in his eyes.

"You'll get there." He replied, letting the topic drop. Cedric, however, continued to ponder the idea as he finished his dinner and washed the child up for bed.

As soon as she was dressed, Sofia hurried into their bedroom and selected one of her books for Cedric to read. He stifled a groan, thoroughly sick of Tales of Mother Goose, the volume she always seemed to choose, and lifted the covers of the bed so she could climb in. Settling in beside her, he flipped through the pages.

"Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country girl, the prettiest creature who was ever seen." Cedric began to read the story as Sofia snuggled in against him.


End file.
